


Sick Day

by AzureTiger



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Caretaker Steve Rogers, Cuddling, Fluff, Hurt Thor (Marvel), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Oblivious Steve Rogers, Slow Burn, Thundershield - Freeform, sick thor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 02:26:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 30,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21809824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzureTiger/pseuds/AzureTiger
Summary: Thor catches a rare Asgardian flu, and he knows just the person to help him get through it.This simple cold might be worse than it looks.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Thor
Comments: 33
Kudos: 191
Collections: Download fics





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Something on the cozier side for the holidays :) I had the intention or writing something a little sillier, but of course that's not how this is going so far.
> 
> I've got a few more longer Thundershield stories with actual plots in the making, too! 
> 
> Enjoy!

Today’s mission was over. Everybody loped back to the jet and prepared to fly to the tower in which they’d all been living for a few months now. It was nice, Steve had to admit. After the fall of SHIELD, he’d felt lost and jittery, without any missions to keep him busy. Looking for Bucky was a mission on its own, but it was one with little reward. Taking down HYDRA bases, however, provided some much-needed gratification almost instantly. Besides, Steve was much better at fighting than he was at hunting down someone who likely didn’t want to be found.

Wherever his friend had run off to, he was doing a good job of laying low.

Steve peeled out of his uniform and underclothes, stepping into the shower. Hot water was bliss on his body, washing away layers of grime. There wasn’t any blood swirling down the drain today, and his bruises would be gone in a handful of hours, if that. The steaming water pelting down on his muscles was often enough to work away the worst of his stiffness and aches, carrying it all away with pressure and steam.

Today was no different. Living in luxury had been a bit of shock, and he still couldn’t get used to how rich his lifestyle could be, living in Tony Stark’s tower, but he had to admit these endless hot showers were easy to accept. While his friends took a  Tylenol for a headache, or got stitches for a cut, he headed for the showers. That was the only medicine he needed.

Steve stepped out of the shower and dried off, padding into his room in search of clothes. Despite the mockery he often got for dressing like an old man, he couldn’t deny the comfort and familiarity of a plaid buttoned shirt. He rolled up the sleeves and stepped into some sneakers, heading for the door.

As usual, they gathered for revels on the common area. The whole floor was bigger than any one house Steve had lived in throughout his life, bigger even than the SHIELD-issues apartment he’d bunked at for a while. The six usually only stayed in the lounge area or the kitchen, filling the counter and coffee table with food and drink, then sprawling across the furniture Tony had thoughtfully provided. Steve was first, so he spread their usual games out across the coffee table. He sat down on the grey couch as always, leaving room for Thor, and dumped a pack of cards into his hand.

By the third shuffle, Tony arrived with Clint on his heels, their arms loaded with food. Bruce shuffled out, looking a little ragged as he always did after a Code Green battle. He sank into a chair, put his feet up, and gratefully accepted the beer Tony handed him. Natasha sauntered out, hair a little damp from a recent shower, dressed in comfy sweats and tank top, powerful and graceful as ever as she walked silently in bare feet across the laminate. She curled up on the other sofa, wedged in the corner so she could be closer to Steve, and plucked the cards from his hand, replacing them with a beer.

Alcohol didn’t do a thing for him, but he liked the taste. Steve had a feeling that he enjoyed a drink simply because a cold beer bottle damp with condensation and the burn of hops in the back of his throat were linked to pleasant memories spent star-gazing with Bucky back before life had gotten complicated.

Thor didn’t come. He  _ always  _ came. The space to Steve’s left remained empty and cold. They waited, eating and chatting aimlessly while they waited. Natasha dealt out a hand, and they sat patiently for a few minutes. Thor didn’t show.

“We can deal him in when he gets here,” Tony announced, leaning back and scanning his cards. “I’ll go first.”

“Steve is left of the dealer,” Natasha quirked an eyebrow. “It’s his turn.”

“Too late,” Tony smacked down a couple of cards. “Snooze you lose. Your turn Barton.”

Clint mulled over his cards and took his turn, while Steve drifted off.

Everyone had more than their share of issues. It wasn’t uncommon for someone to duck out of games night early, or not show up at all. Steve himself sometimes had to call it in well before the sun set because his hands were shaking too badly to hold playing cards, and someone would notice. Sometimes he just wanted to sit on his bed alone and stare at black and white photos of days long gone. Bucky especially. He loved his new friends like family, but he missed his old friend, even more-so now that he knew the man was out in the world somewhere, instead of  _ dead. _ Sometimes he could hardly believe it. But then, crazier things had happened. And besides, his photographic memory would never let him forget the haunted, stricken stare of confusion and pain in Bucky’s wide eyes as he’d frozen with his metal fist in the air. Steve rubbed his cheek bone unconsciously at the thought of it, frowning a little. It probably just looked like he was deciding which cards to play.

His friends didn’t know that he could barely sleep through a night. Then again, he didn’t know if they did either, given how thick the walls were in this place. In fact, he knew precious little about his team. Well, Tony aside, but the inventor could hardly help himself.

Some family they were, somehow so close yet disconnected and impersonal at the same time. Steve supposed he wasn’t setting the example, given that he was their leader. Maybe the next time he suffered a particularly brutal nightmare he should go down to see Tony in his lab, or stop by Barton’s room. He knew both of them were late to bed. After his time spent with Natasha working for SHIELD, he knew she would come sit with him if he asked. He was certain Bruce would let him hang out with him in his lab, too.

And Thor? Out of all of them, Steve knew the least about the demigod. His SHIELD file was pretty vague, lacking any kind of details to hazard a guess as to what baggage the prince of  Asgard toted with him. The thing was, he didn’t seem to have any. Which couldn’t be true, not that Steve was hoping, but he knew a little about Thor’s feud with his brother which had led to the attack on New York a few years back. Other than that, he had no clue.

Thor often talked about Asgard, the same way he did most things: directly, loudly, and energetically. He talked about the golden spires of his castle, about the lush forests, about the galaxies surrounding the little floating island, cradling it in the endless void of space. Steve was pretty sure he could have drawn a fairly accurate replica of the kingdom by description alone. He’d considered it, sitting down with his sketchbooks and seeing what he could come up with.

The seat beside him remained unoccupied all evening. Steve tried not to think about it too much, focusing on games and food and friends. He knew the demigod hadn’t been hurt in today’s battle; Thor rarely acquired much more than the rare scrape, which was always gone in mere hours. He must just have needed some space. That alone seemed... perplexing. Thor liked to get up close, swinging his massive arms around for friendly pats, always reaching out for hugs. Steve had to admit he enjoyed Thor’s friendly smacks on his shoulder or back when they sat together playing games. It felt like an acknowledgement of his strength, those hearty claps, but were also mindful at the same time, not as rough as they could be.

They played late into the night, until everyone was drifting off and losing focus. Steve called it a night and helped clean up. He draped a blanket over Bruce’s slumbering form, then went to adjust Natasha’s limp posture so she was more comfortably arranged on the sofa.  Clint he picked up by the arms and dragged to the other couch, laying him out.

Tony was the only one still awake, rubbing his eyes as he traipsed off to his lab.

“Get some sleep,” Steve advised.

“Yeah yeah,” the inventor wagged his hand. “G’night Cap.”

“Night, Tony.”

Now it was just Steve. He turned to look out the window. The moon was fat and orange in the sky, the ground far below filled with city lights like stars. The constant motion was oddly soothing, spinning and buzzing so far below him. With his serum-enhanced ears, he could just about hear the rumbling engines of individual cars.

Steve went to bed. He took off his shoes and lay on the covers in his clothes, hands folded over his stomach, staring at the ceiling. Though he still couldn’t get used to it, he had to admit he enjoyed being cradled by the soft mattress absorbing his body. Especially after a fight. It made resting off bruises easier, no matter how fast those bruises healed.

All the marks from today’s fight were already gone. Steve held up his arm, staring at the curved of muscle twisting under perfect skin as he flexed his wrist. He didn’t miss his small, sickly body, being constantly ill and in pain. But he  _ did _ miss being enveloped. That was something that hadn’t happened since Bucky had still been significantly larger than him. Nothing compared to the safety of a warm, all-encompassing embrace. Thor’s friendly pats were the closest he’d gotten since the serum injection. 

Was Thor okay? Steve couldn’t help worrying about the demigod, even if that seemed preposterous.  _ He’s only human, _ is what he kept starting to think, before cutting himself off. Thor most definitely was  _ not _ human, at least not in the ways that mattered. Maybe on top of being nearly physically invulnerable, he was emotionally resilient too. Steve had a feeling there was more to Thor than met the eye, though. As was so for the rest of the team.

_ Whatever he’s up to, I hope he’s alright. _

With that, Steve pushed worry from his mind and got undressed, crawling under the covers and closing his eyes. Nothing could be done but take care of himself, in this moment. He’d fought hard today too, and though these fights rarely pushed his limits, a recharge wouldn’t go amiss. So that’s what he did.

\--

Steve managed precious few hours of sleep. That was fine. He didn’t need that many. He wasn’t even tired. When the nightmares woke up, he got dressed and left the tower for his morning run. He was back before the sun came up.

By the time it was just peeking over the city skyline, the others were starting to wake up. 

Thor didn’t show. He always came to breakfast in the common area, arriving sometime after Natasha, and before Clint. By the time the archer dragged himself off the couch with a groan and slumped into kitchen it was late morning, and Thor was still nowhere to be seen.

“Maybe he went back to Asgard,” Tony shrugged, offering up the suggestion when Steve asked if anyone had seen the god. Thor did return to Asgard to visit rather suddenly, though less and less as of late.

“Lord Thor has not activated the bi-frost,” JARVIS interjected helpfully.

“Then where is he?” Tony threw up his hands. “I had his favorite jam ordered. I’ve got a box in the cupboard.

“Lord Thor is currently in his room,” the AI elaborated hesitantly. “He has asked not to be disturbed.”

“Yeah  yeah , no more information needed,” Tony turned on the coffee machine. “Guy’s  gotta do what a guy’s  gotta do.”

That was the end of that discussion, though Steve severely doubted that whatever Thor was up to, it wasn’t... ‘taking care of himself’. Regardless it was none of his business.

Everyone had business to attend to today. Tony was working on suit repairs and upgrades, plus a few miscellaneous projects as always. Bruce would probably be nearby, or in his own lab working on projects of his own. Natasha and Clint had work to do; SHIELD may be no more, but that didn’t mean they were out of a job. Quite the contrary, actually. Fury was still sliding work under the table for them.

Steve had nothing to do: Fury didn’t need him today.  So the soldier took to the gym as he often did when he was bored. He changed into sweats and a t-shirt, wrapped his fists, and set to working himself as hard as he could.

That was difficult these days. Back before the serum, he was often out of breath before  _ doing _ anything. Now, it took a lot to feel like he’d actually worked hard. And he  _ needed _ it, could hardly bear to sit still for too long.

Another punching bag flew off the hook, torn wide open. It made one hell of a mess, but he loved the satisfaction of his fist and all the muscle behind it breaking through the tough skin in a loud crack and the sound of beads spilling all across the floor. Steve raked at his cropped hair and stood proudly panting over his defeated opponent. In a matter of seconds, he’d caught his breath again.

He swept up, meticulously making sure to leave the room as he’d left it, sans one punching bag. He was just about to start some solo routines on the mats when JARVIS  interrupted him.

“Captain Rogers. Lord Thor is requesting your a ssistance .”

Steve lowered his stance and looked up sharply, half expecting to see the god marching in. There was no-one there. He wasn’t even sure what to say, too confused to answer. “I- h- where-? Is he okay?”

“He is waiting for you in the medical ward,” JARVIS patiently relayed. “I am not equipped to evaluate his well-being accurately, but he appears to be, by common terms, fevered.”

Steve furrowed his brow. That didn’t seem right. Surely that was just Thor and his constant generation of heat... Only one way to find out. Steve hurriedly changed his shirt, put his shoes back on, and made his way to the tower’s medical wing.

Thor was there, standing in the empty ward by a bed, pushing the button on a vitals machine and watching curiously as the blood pressure cuff hooked to the side of it inflated and deflated with gushes and whirrs. He was wearing a big hoodie over at least three shirts. Steve could spot them peeking out the bottom. Thor always liked wearing a couple of  shirt s under a jacket of some kind, but this seemed excessive.

He was barefoot, huddled into himself a little, and his hair limp around his shoulders. It looked a little damp. Shower...? “Thor?”  _ What on earth are you doing. _

“Steven!” Thor abandoned the machine as it measured the air’s blood pressure, turning around and walking over with heavy strides. “I wondered perhaps if you had gone out.”

“No, I’m here...” Steve replied dumbly, looking the god up and down. No doubt about it, Thor was  _ huge, _ even to Steve, who was quite large  himself. But the god was hunched a little, wrapping his arms around his chest, his face flushed and his skin glistening with sweat. He was shivering under all those layers, and sniffed a little into his sleeve. “What... what’s up?”

“I wondered if you could assist me.” Thor sniffed again and rubbed his nose on his sleeve. “With... this.”

“I mean... yeah. Of course. I...” Steve scratched his head, confused. He was quite sure he knew what ‘this’ was. His brain couldn’t quite process that the God of Thunder was standing here in normal clothes with a runny nose and hazy eyes. His usual confidence was tinted with embarrassment. Steve could see Thor’s foot twitching nervously in his peripheral vision. He regarded his friend curiously, but not without concern. “Are... you okay?”

Thor waved his hand and laughed bashfully, flushing a little deeper. “Ah, yes. I am.”

“What did you want me to do?” Not that he minded, he was just confused.  _ What do you expect from me?  _

“I thought this would pass on its own, but it has not. I... came in search of, um,” Thor actually paused, licking his lips and looking at his feet. It was... uncharacteristic, and more of a sign that  anything else that something was wrong.

“Medicine?” Steve quirked an eyebrow.  _ Not that I don’t sometimes wish I could take the edge off too after a bad concussion, but Thor doesn’t strike me the type to take a Nyquil for a cold. A cold? What? I mean... that’s clearly what this is. But how... _

Little good a Nyquil would do for it. If Thor burned through alcohol faster than Steve, then Earth medicine  _ definitely _ wouldn’t affect him. Or maybe it would, what with his physiology being so different. Steve wondered for a moment just how different the Asgardian’s biology was to a  human’s .

Thor was nodding, more hesitant and unsure of himself than Steve had ever seen him. Thor always seemed endlessly confident. Steve softened. “Yeah, come on. I don’t know if it’ll do you much good, but it’s worth a try, right? So long as you’re not somehow allergic to anti-inflammatories.”

If he was, Thor didn’t know. It couldn’t hurt to try. Steve walked over to the cabinet where bottles of pills were kept, and the demigod started to follow, trailing along aimlessly. There was a lot of stuff in here, which he had become familiar with while helping out his teammates post-battle. Steve rarely needed any treatment, able to patch up wounds on his own which an ordinary human would have needed hospitalization for, and sleep them off. Particularly if Bruce had Hulked out, Steve often found himself down here, making sure his friends got the rest and treatment they needed. Thank goodness everything they brought back he could help them with.

Steve filled a paper cup from the sink in the corner and handed it over, dropping three pills into Thor’s hand. “There you go, try that. And you should really take those layers off...”

“I’m cold,” Thor frowned and swallowed what was given, handing back the cup and looking at his hands as if something would happen immediately.

“You’ve got a fever,” Steve corrected. “ So you’re body’s trying to cool itself. You ever had a fever before?”  _ Do Asgardians even get sick? Stupid question.  _ _ Clearly _ _ they can. _

Thor rubbed his beard thoughtfully. “Perhaps...” he wiped his nose again, breathing through his mouth. He sounded congested.

_ Feels gross, doesn’t it. Been there.  _ “Come on,” Steve suggested, gently placing his arm on Thor’s bicep and guiding him back toward the nearest bed. He could feel the god trembling beneath his touch, even  through all those layers. “Why don’t I take your temperature. Or I could get Bruce. I’m sure he’d know what to do. Could probably invent you a med-”

“No.” Thor stood by the bed, but didn’t sit. There was a slight flash of alarm in his eyes, though he quickly wiped it away as if reasoning that was a stupid reaction. They were all friends here. “No, this is fine.”

“If you’re sure,” Steve looked up. Thor was just those couple of inches taller, even shrunken into his hoodie as he was. “Sit. Uh, lie down. I’ll... I’ll do my best.”  _ I’m not a doctor... though I’ll be damned if I don’t know what to look for and how to deal with it. At least on humans... _

Thor sighed with relief. He sat down on the mattress and turned his hips, bringing his legs up and laying down. He shut his eyes and went limp, holding out his arm trustingly. Steve smiled and pushed it down, unsure what Thor was picturing, but charmed by it. 

The Captain washed his hands and came back. He unwrapped the blood pressure cuff from the hook and disconnected the cuff, attaching the largest one from the basket. He hoped it would measure through all of Thor’s layers as he wrapped it around the demigod’s bicep and pressed the button. He attached the clip to Thor’s index finger and picked up the thermometer, pushing a sterile plastic cover over the probe and holding it up. “Open up,” he instructed. “Under the tongue.”

Thor cracked open his eyes and opened his mouth for the device, watching curiously like a child who had never been to the doctor before, and wasn’t scared by anything simply because he had no idea what to expect. Well, surely he had some idea; Thor had been in the room enough times when his colleagues had been getting a check-up or two.

There were a few moments of silence between them as the machine measured and tabulated, beeping matter-of-factly when it was finished and displaying the numbers.

“Thor, your temperature is 108,” Steve stared at the machine in his hand, then looked over at the vitals monitor. “And your pulse is 135. BP is 95/50.”

“Is this bad?” Thor propped himself up on an elbow to inspect the displays curiously, but lay back down so Steve could pull the cuff off his arm. 

Of course, Thor probably had no idea what his normal vitals were. Measurement systems in  Asgard would undoubtedly be different anyway. Steve grimly put the thermometer away and shut off the machine, more uncertain than before of what he should do. “Yeah... if you were a  human I’d take you to a hospital. Actually, if you were a human that fever would have killed you.”

“Oh.” Thor put the back of his hand to his forehead, not as shocked as the situation warranted. In  fact he seemed only mildly concerned, more embarrassed than anything. He sniffed again, and Steve handed him a tissue, which he stared at with confusion. Big, bright blue eyes turned to peer up at him, swirling with so many emotions Steve wasn’t sure what to make of it all. Thor’s bright and perhaps naïve demeanor was still in-tact, but buried under layers of uncertainty and confusion and even fear. Not for his condition, though. The god didn’t seem any more concerned than he was miffed that he felt so terrible.

“You blow into it,” Steve pulled on e out and demonstrated. “But not too hard, or you’ll give yourself a nosebleed.”

Thor trustingly put the tissue to his nose and blew into it, squeezing his eyes shut as he did so. He pulled back and inspected it, crinkling his nose a little. It seemed to have helped. “Thank you,” he croaked, dropping the tissue in the bin when it was offered.

“Maybe you should go back to bed,” Steve suggested quietly. “Come on.” He didn’t know what was bothering the god, but it didn’t matter: he was ill, so the Captain would do his best to help, as he would for any of his friends. Steve offered his hands, and Thor actually took them, using them to pull himself sitting.

Already he was swaying a little on his feet, rubbing at his eyes.  _ You should be in bed. Whatever’s wrong with you, you can probably sleep it off. A 108 fever isn’t that bad. Yeah, not at all.  _ Or maybe it was a lot worse given he didn’t know what a healthy core temperature was for an Asgardian.

Steve started to lead the way, walking slowly through the door and out into the corridor, intending to lead the way to his friend’s room. A dull crack stopped him in his tracks, and he changed his mind the second he turned and spotted Thor rubbing his forehead, braced with an arm on the doorframe he’d just walked into.  _ Maybe you should stay with me for a bit. Just in case.  _ Steve wouldn’t mind the company. It was nice to have time to himself, but spending days in and out alone could wear on him. Thor was unassuming, friendly and open and cheerful, and so kind. They got along well. Steve wouldn’t mind spending a few hours with his friend.  _ Though we won’t exactly be ‘hanging out’ per-say... He looks like he could fall asleep on his feet any minute now.  _

There  w ere times when it was harder to walk away from a fight than others. Thor had offered a supportive arm to him in the past, and though Steve was prouder than he wanted to admit, he was sometimes grateful for a strong shoulder to lean on. He would happily return the favor, and Thor latched onto his arm the second he offered it. Wearily, the demigod leaned into Steve and submitted to his Captain’s guidance.


	2. Chapter 2

Steve took Thor to his room. He’d thought about it while they walked to the elevator, and decided that would be the best course of action. Thor was clearly in need of the physical contact and companionship, leaning heavily into the support. He was even wheezing a little, out of breath and worn out.  _ With that heart rate I’m not surprised. _

So he sat the prince at the table, pulling out a chair for him. “Did you get any dinner last night?” Thor shook his head, but Steve was already turning on the stove and opening up the fridge. “Okay. I’ll make you something.” But first, he slid over a glass of cold orange juice.

Thor took a sip and shivered, tucking himself further into his layers but obediently continuing to drink. He seemed to enjoy the flavor at least. 

“So...” Steve tipped a tin of soup into the pot and turned around, leaning on the stove as he stirred. “You uh... never been sick before, huh.”

“Nay,” Thor furrowed his brow. He took a sip of juice. “Not recently, at least. I have perhaps taken ill as a child. But that was many centuries ago. I can barely remember.”

“I didn’t even know you guys _could_ get sick,” Steve mused.

“It is indeed rare,” Thor agreed with a solemn nod. “We are far more likely to be poisoned or cursed than contract a sickness.”

“Is it dangerous?” Steve questioned, because it was important. “Maybe you should go back to Asgard-”

“It is not,” Thor smiled reassuringly, and quickly. “Sleep is all I require. I believe your medicine may be taking effect.”

_ Yeah, okay. I really doubt Ibuprofen would do anything for you.  _ But he didn’t argue, simply nodding and turning back to the soup. A tin of soup wasn’t the most delicious meal, but it was easy on the stomach. And Thor didn’t look that hungry, which was saying something. He’d never been that picky anyway.  _ Sometimes I forget he’s a prince.  _

The soup was done. Steve tipped it into a bowl and slid it over with a slice of dry toast. Thor murmured a thank-you and stared down into the mixture blankly. He picked up the spoon in his trembling hand and had a small mouthful. After a taste, he seemed to realize he was hungry and ate with a bit more vigor. Steve smiled and turned away to boil the kettle. He had to admit, the big, tough demigod looked rather adorable hunched over in his warm hoodie nibbling on toast with glazed eyes and pink cheeks.  _ Not a look I ever thought I’d see you wear. _

_ But then again, what do I know?  _ Nothing, frankly. He hardly knew anything about his friend. Out of his team, Thor was whom he knew the least about. Strange, given how compatible they were. Steve was always happy to spend time with Thor. Maybe he should have tried to get to know his friend a little more. Now that he thought about it, he felt ashamed.

Thor was licking his lips and carefully setting the spoon in the empty bowl, swiping toast crumbs into his hand and dumping those in too. A look of sadness was passing over his features, but he immediately brightened when Steve set a mug of black coffee in front of him. He took a sip and hummed happily.

They sat there at the table for a while, Thor working through his coffee at a snail’s pace, looking increasingly dopey with every sip. He was really taking his time. “You can stay here as long as you like,” Steve smiled gently, and Thor glanced up bashfully from his cup, as if he’d been caught singing on the subway.

“You need not linger on my behalf,” the prince offered up politely, but he looked so delighted that Steve wouldn’t have been able to leave him alone even if he’d wanted to.

The Captain shook his head. “I got nowhere to be. Besides, you look like you could use the company. Only thing worse than being sick is suffering through it alone.”  _ And you look absolutely terrible. I don’t care who or what you are: I’m not leaving a  _ _ 108 fever _ _ unattended. You clearly don’t know how to take care of yourself. And you can barely walk in a straight line, so I’d doubt you could do it even if you knew how to treat yourself. _

Thor sipped his coffee a little faster now that he knew his stay wouldn’t end when the food and beverages did. He sighed contentedly over the empty mug and started to stand, pushing back the chair and stumbling around the table, knocking it with his hip. The mug came loose from his grip and Steve’s hand whipped out, catching the object before it could fall.  _ Yeah... you’re not leaving my sight for a little while at least.  _ They recovered slowly, Thor braced on the table and Steve straightening. “Come on, bed,” he urged, turning and setting the mug safely on the table before wrapping a stabilizing arm around Thor’s. “Let’s go.”

The demigod submitted, leaning wearily once more into his Captain and trudging along through the suite. Steve steered him clear of furniture and guided him into his bedroom, sitting him on the edge of the bed.

“Get that sweater off,” he ordered gently, backing up to his wardrobe.

Thor shook his head and tucked his head deeper into it. “Cold.”

“You’ll overheat, come on. Sooner that fever comes down, the sooner you’ll feel better. Off.” He’d never imagined this would be the time that Thor would question his orders; the prince was usually prompt and unquestioning when he took direction from his Captain. Not today.  _ All the more reason to keep my eye on him. _

Thor acquiesced, tugging his hoodie up and over his head, his many shirts riding up as he did so. He reluctantly disposed the garment on the duvet beside him, rumpled and sweaty beneath it.

Steve fished a pair of jogging pants out of his dresser and came back, handing them over. “Comfier than jeans,” he promised. “And ditch the layers.”

Thor stared up, perplexed and betrayed.

“You can keep one.”

The demigod obeyed, hesitantly peeling apart the layers and wrestling out of them, keeping on one lonely shirt. He took the sweats handed to him and stared at them.

“I’ll go in the other room,” Steve offered, backing up and slipping into the bathroom.

This was definitely not how he’d expected to spend his slow time between missions. Steve grabbed a couple of washcloths from the cupboard and went to wet them, glancing at the old photograph of Peggy he kept on a shelf. She was in her early forties, just as strong and proud and beautiful as she had been when he’d known her. Perfect.  _ Long-gone. _

Steve wrung out the cloths more aggressively than he’d meant to, squeezing them so hard they nearly tore under his monstrous strength. It felt good to break things, to channel his anger through his fists and send it somewhere, cause some damage with it, reduce objects to the state of his heart. As much as it was empowering to recognize his own strength, it was also incredibly satisfying to look at something he’d broken and think,  _ That’s _ _ how I feel, inside. _ The ruptured punching bags especially. They were tough and strong, but he could break them, spill their guts out onto the floor, wreck them so badly that they couldn’t possibly be usable again. But he could always gather up the filling and get it back in, tape up the bag, and go through the process all over again.

There was a loud thud outside. Steve hurried out of the bathroom to find Thor leaning on the bed over the fallen nightstand. He’d just managed to catch the lamp and was setting it aside to he could clean up what he’d knocked over, kneeling beside scattered books and a framed photograph.

He must have bumped into it. Steve approached and knelt, righting the shelf and picking the books out of Thor’s hands. The prince was very unstable. He tended to be loud and blunt, but he wasn’t ungraceful. There was hidden elegance in the way he fought and moved, appearing oblivious yet still very aware of his surroundings. Not now: the god seemed to have lost all his spacial awareness and hand-eye coordination, fumbling with the picture frame. Steve reached over to take it from him, but paused at the sight of Thor’s curious stare locked intently on the black and white photo.

“Your family...” the god observed quietly, sadly.

Steve nodded. “A long time ago,” he agreed.

“The ones you left behind.”

“...Yeah.” Steve swallowed.

Thor looked up, concern in his glazed eyes and swollen lips. He was searching Steve’s face, and Steve could only stand there and let him, frozen in place while he let the god read all the sorrow there was to find in his expression. And he knew there was a lot. Then the Asgardian shook his head and handed over the photo. “I am sorry. It is not my place.”

Steve smiled, taking the photograph – him and the Commandos and Bucky and Peggy, all smiling and laughing and young, innocent, free - and setting it aside. He picked up the lamp and returned it to its place, then bent and offered his hands. Thor took them, struggling to his feet as his huge body swayed and his eyes swam with dizziness. “Not your place to what?”

Thor frowned and sank down on the edge of the bed, bracing it with his hands. His eye contact was unwavering. “Not my place to pry. If we are not aware of your past, there must be a reason you wish not to share it.”

Thor was right: he  _ hadn’t _ shared that much. Not about Peggy, or his former friends, or how much he missed them. How betrayed he felt no matter how stupid that was, because it wasn’t their fault his life had been robbed from him. He was glad they’d moved on and had lives of their own. And he  _ didn’t _ want to share it, just as much as he desperately  _ did. _ It wasn’t a yes-or-no question. Steve swallowed again. He shook his head lamely, though he wasn’t sure what he was denying by it. “I... it’s not that. I’m just...”

“Quiet,” Thor agreed. “You would rather be the shoulder to lean on than ask for it.”

Yeah, that was about it. Steve looked at his feet. He wasn’t sure what to say, how to justify himself or even if he should.

That was okay, because Thor was coughing into his arm, and it had all of his Asgardian power behind it. This was no time to be thinking about such things. Steve looked up and was sitting in a flash, planting one hand on Thor’s huge chest, and the other between his shoulder blades, steadying as his friend hacked brutally into his arm. He could feel the power of them through his palms, and how badly Thor needed that support.

Finally, finally, the coughs slowed and died. Steve gave Thor’s spine a gentle rub, watching him carefully as he caught his breath. “Time to rest, I think,” he suggested quietly. “Come on, lie down, get some sleep. I’ll be here.”

“This is your bed-” Thor looked up with alarm, but Steve cut him off.

“I am not leaving you by yourself,” Steve argued, pointing at the pillows. “Lie down.”

Thor just stared at him, a second hue of pink rising up under his fevered flush and a smile tugging at his lips. He obeyed, swinging his legs around and laying down on the covers. Steve grabbed the duvet and folded it to the end of the bed, pulling up the sheet. He grabbed the pillows from the other side of the massive bed and tucked them behind Thor’s back so he was almost sitting. Then he rescued the damp cloth from the bathroom and returned, folding it up and pressing it into the prince’s sweaty forehead. A soft sigh escaped Thor’s lips and he closed his eyes, gratitude and relief glistening brightly in them.

“Feels good, huh?” Steve smiled. Thor hummed a soft agreement, already starting to go limp. “Get some sleep. I’ll just be in the other room. Just shout if you need something, alright? Don’t get up. I’ll bring it to you.”

Thor hummed  again, his arms relaxed over his stomach. Steve smiled and turned to leave, but the god’s eyes flashed open and he whipped out his hand, snatching the Captain by the wrist desperately. “Steve,” he rasped, licking his lips. “Steve... thank you.”

Steve smiled again. “You’re welcome. Feel better.”

And Thor smiled back, letting go and shutting his eyes.

Steve did leave the room, but only to grab a thermometer. He didn’t care that he didn’t have a baseline: he wanted to keep an eye on that fever.  _ Let’s hope he doesn’t need medicine we can’t give him.  _ Steve was a fast and astute learner, but magic was out of his range of abilities.

The modern day had plenty of remedies. Surely those would be enough. Steve didn’t have any stocked in his own room, but he knew where to get some supplies. Tony wouldn’t mind if he used some. He could be generous with ingredients, too: this wasn’t the thirties, when his mama and Bucky would have struggled to scrape together some money to get him the medicine he needed to survive. Thor would likely sleep this off on his own, but they had the resources to help him along as much as possible.  So Steve gathered a couple of lemons from the crisper, a jar of honey from the cupboard, and a clove of ginger.

He brought it all back to his room and deposited his bundle on the kitchen counter, back-tracking to poke his head around the bedroom door; Thor was still right where he’d left him, breathing through his mouth, asleep. Steve padded silently in and placed a box of tissues on the nightstand. After a hesitant pause, he reached out his hand and pushed his knuckles into Thor’s bristled cheek. The skin was burning hot, hotter than before.  _ Pretty soon I’ll be able to cook my breakfast on your face.  _ As he swiped the cloth over the prince’s face, he wouldn’t have been surprised had the water sizzled. The cloth wasn’t cold anymore, though, so he went to wet it in the bathroom again, and pressed it back into his friend’s forehead.

At least Thor looked content, his tongue on the verge of poking out between his lips as he panted, his expression relaxed. It was the most soft and peaceful the god had ever looked. 

_ Why me? Why not Bruce? He’d know more about modern treatments. Maybe he could have made you some medicine. Or Tony. He may not be a biologist, but  _ _ I’m _ _ sure he could figure something out for you. _

Oh well, Thor was here, had come to Steve, and Steve wasn’t about to turn him down.

It was lunch time. Steve wondered if Thor’s bottomless stomach would wake him up, but there were no sounds from the bedroom as the Captain made himself a sandwich. He sat at the couch to eat it, pulling out his phone.

He stared at the device for a long time before realizing there was no way he was getting Thor out of his head and so set the device aside. Steve finished his lunch and went back to the kitchen counter, pulling out a bowl and cutting board. He found a cheese grater and knife, and got to work. In a matter of minutes, he had filled the bowl up with lemon rind and shredded ginger. Steve crushed the lemon in his fist, squeezing out the juice for all it was worth. That should do it. He filled the kettle and turned it on with the intention of trying the mixture himself.

He didn’t get the chance: Thor was mumbling to himself in the other room. Steve abandoned his project and ducked into the bedroom, pacing to the bed. Thor had rolled onto his side, one arm dangling over the bed, the cloth fallen to the floor. He was muttered into the pillows, half his face buried as his lips moved. It sounded like another language. Either that, or it was just typical dozy, fevered mumblings. Steve hoped it was a good dream.

Thor’s eyebrows wobbled as he frowned, his huge frame swelling with a particularly deep breath, then shaking and rippling like the Earth’s crust during an earthquake as he coughed. Steve quickly grabbed the dangling arm and rolled the prince onto his back by the shoulder, resting his arm over his stomach and fluffing the pillows. That had to hurt, how violently Thor was hacking up his lungs.  _ I think if I’d coughed like that it’d have killed me.  _ Whatever power his small body had managed to produce had cracked his ribs on a couple of occasions. Everything was relative. These were just Thor-sized coughs.  _ Can you even break bones?  _ Maybe the God of Thunder had  vibranium for a skeleton. 

“Steve...?” Thor was looking up at him, eyes hazy, blinking apart heavy eyelashes. He briefly glanced around with confused before settling his gaze back on Steve. “What...”

“I brought you back to my room, remember?” Steve smiled softly, bending down to retrieve the cloth off the floor.

“Oh.” Realization dawned on his bleary expression, but at least he didn’t seem disappointed. Just... miserable. He sniffed and wiped his nose on his hand. 

Steve handed him a tissue. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

The kettle was boiled. Steve scooped his lemon-ginger remedy into a mug and poured water over it, mixing thoroughly. He added a little cold water to make it drinkable and had a sip. It burned through his sinuses, bitter and strong.  _ Perfect. _ He added a dash and sugar and took the mug to the bedroom, gathering the thermometer as he went.

“Open up,” Steve smiled, setting down the drink and holding out the thermometer. Thor obediently opened his mouth so it could be slid under his tongue, closing his lips around it and watching curiously. They both waited in silence for the exuberant chirp of the device. Steve inspected the display. “109,” he announced.

“A hundred and nine of what?” Thor muttered, licking dry lips. 

“Degrees,” Steve explained, setting the thermometer aside. “How bad that is, I’m not sure. I don’t know what your normal temperature is.”

That seemed to make sense to the demigod. Either that or he was too weary to do anything other than agree complacently.

Steve handed over the mug, making sure Thor had a good grip on it with both hands, and wasn’t about to spill it. He seemed steady enough. “Drink this,” the Captain urged. “It’ll make you feel better.”

Thor put the mug to his lips curiously, letting the vapors waft up his nose. He took a sniff, pleased as he sipped from the rim. He blinked, a little clarity lighting up his eyes. Steve smiled and went to wet the cloth while his friend drank. The soldier returned, reaching out and pressing it into Thor’s forehead between sips.

“You hungry?” he asked, and Thor frowned, as if the answer coming to him wasn’t what he knew it should be.

“No... not really.” He seemed bashful about it, and a little confused.

“I’ll make you something later,” Steve replied understandingly, handing over another tissue. The drink seemed to be helping, but Thor was still rasping through his mouth to the distinct congested rumble crawling up his throat. “Maybe you should have a shower. The steam will help clear out your sinuses.” Better to do it now while Thor was still lucid. There was no way of knowing how this would progress. Perhaps hot water wouldn’t be so good for that fever, but if it would help clear out Thor’s nose, he might be able to breathe deeper, and sleep better.

“If that is what you suggest,” Thor nodded into his mug, taking another sip and smacking his lips at the sour flavor.

“Is it too tart?” Steve asks. “I can get you some more sugar.”

“No, it tastes good,” Thor smiles at him sincerely. “I promise. It reminds me of an old Asgardian remedy my mother used to make for my father when he came out of the  Odinsleep . She would give it to the warriors when they returned from battle, for strength. I may have... pretended to be slightly wearier than I was so that she would make me some.” The prince took a bashful sip and swallowed it roughly. With a shaky sigh, he kept the mug pressed to his lips and stared into it with misty eyes.

Steve pressed his hand into the Asgardian’s shoulder. “I’ll make you some more when you’re out of the shower,” he promised.  _ If it’ll keep you hydrated... _

Thor smiled sadly against the rim of the mug, a little light bouncing off the golden liquid and dancing across his upper lip. One final sip, and the mug was empty. He looked up and offered the receptacle to the Captain, wiping his eyes with the side of his hand. “Thank you. If it’s not too much trouble.”

“Not at all,” Steve smiled back sympathetically, putting the cup aside. “Here, let’s go.” He held out his hands. Thor slid his legs from under the sheet and took them, pulling to his feet. 

Beneath the fevered flush, his color drained away, and he leaned forward in breathless defeat. Without hesitation, he reached up and slowly wrapped his arms around the Captain’s back. The skin of his cheek burned hot against Steve’s neck, and his huge body rattled with a deep, chesty cough. His huge hands pressed into the soldier’s back, fingers gripping tightly, probably strong enough to hurt a normal human.

Steve raised his arms to hug back, supporting both their weights. “Hey... you okay?”

Thor squeezed him tightly, exhaling through his open mouth with a rumble in his throat. He swallowed, and it sounded painful. “Yes.”

This seemed very forward, even for the boisterous god who loved physical contact and wasn’t afraid to go in for a hug when he wanted one. This gesture contained no exuberance. It was pained and heavy and wanting, as if Thor simply couldn’t hold himself up anymore. It was a gesture of need rather than greeting, something that begged to be reciprocated.

Steve obliged, and would for as long as the god needed it. He wasn’t sure what was bothering his friend, but he would give his support nonetheless, physically and emotionally. Gently, and partially on instinct, he raised his arms and squeezed back. One hand found its way up to the back of Thor’s head, holding it there as confirmation that this was acceptable. “You’ll feel better soon, I promise,” he murmured softly, and Thor nodded into his shoulder. “You can stay here, long as you want. I won’t leave.”  _ You _ _ won’t be alone. _

Whatever he’d said, it had struck a chord. “Thank you,” Thor whispered in reply, his voice uncharacteristically weak. “Thank you, Steve.”

“Anytime,” Steve smiled. “Come on, shower time. Then you can have some more of that drink, and get some rest. Best way to get better is to sleep.”

Thor pulled away, blinking heavily at the Captain with damp, puffy eyes. He smiled, lips pink against the paleness of his skin. Obediently, he nodded and accepted Steve’s supporting arm all the way to the bathroom.

“Here are some towels,” Steve dragged some fresh ones out of the closet and hung them on the rack. He set a clean shirt and  pj pants folded on the counter. “Something new to wear. Oh, and a razor, if you want to shave,” he set it and some shaving cream on the counter, alongside a hair brush. Then he walked to the door, pausing and turning around. Thor was already pulling off his shirt, his sweat-slicked torso shining in the bright light like a carved statue in a museum. Steve cleared his throat. “Um, you’ll be okay?”

“I will be well,” Thor assured with a smile. 

“There’s soap in there. You can use whatever you want."

“Thank you.”

“I’ll... be out here. If you need something. Just shout if you do.”

“Of course,” Thor gave him a nod.

Steve nodded back and turned, shutting the door behind him. After a minute of quietly listening, the water started to run. Thor would be alright on his own for a while. 

Thanks to his enhanced hearing, he felt comfortable moving away from the bathroom and back to the kitchen. If Thor fell, he would hear it. Steve hoped the hot water would clear out the demigod’s head, and not make him worse off. He bit his lip as he pulled out his supplies and cut up the rest of his ingredients. Some went into the mug, while the rest he put in a container to store in the fridge. 

Steve walked back into the bedroom to change the sheets. They were damp with sweat. It reminded him of days long gone being stuck on an old creaky mattress, Bucky at his side to take care of him. He’d never had the energy to get up after a few days stuck suffering in bed, no matter how soaked the bedding became as his fevers raged and his body sweat out any fluids he managed to drink. Bucky had sometimes carried him to the sofa so he could change the sheets.

It shouldn’t feel like the seventy-plus years ago that it was, given he’d been unconscious for most of that, but it did. Steve sat on the edge of the bed and picked the photo off the lampstand. He stared at his own face, laughing and cheerful and young. Physically, he was only in his mid-twenties, but often times he felt like an old man whose life had passed him by. That was stupid: he knew he had an age ahead of him, if he didn’t die in battle. He would stay fit and strong and healthy for a long time to come. How long...? Long enough to see his new friends wither away, that he knew. Dying in battle would be better.

Steve stared at his own face printed in black and white, and tried to mirror the smile. His lips turned upward at his command, but his eyes wouldn’t obey. It felt stiff and forced, only serving to tighten his throat. Soon, the picture disappeared under tears. Thor was right: he hadn’t told anyone about his family for a reason. Nobody here could understand how alone he felt all the time. 

Steve set down the photo and wiped his eyes as he stood up and walked out of the room. He needed to get himself together before Thor came out of the shower, be ready to stand as a pillar. As a leader, it was his duty. Besides, crying wouldn’t do him any good. It wouldn’t bring back friends lost. The only thing he had power to change was in his bathroom. With a determined expression, Stever set to doing what he could toward helping the person who needed it, the person he  _ could _ help. He brought in a chair and set it by the bed. Then he filled a bowl of cool water from the kitchen tap and set it on the lampstand, pushing the books on top under the chair to make room for it. 

After a little while, it became impossible  _ not  _ to think about Thor; the demigod had been in the shower for a worryingly long time. Steve was considering going in when the water shut off, and his ears were met with the reliving sound of Thor’s feet climbing out of the tub and onto the bathmat. He smiled and sagged with mild relief, going to turn on the kettle so it would be ready when the demigod emerged.

Thor came staggering out as Steve brought in another mug of tea. The Asgardian was dressed in the clean clothes provided, his hair still  damp and hanging round his shoulders. He walked over to the bed and climbed straight in, turned on his side.

“Hey, good shower? Here, sit up,” Steve came over and presented the mug. Thor nodded and turned onto his back, sitting up on the pillows the Captain had arranged for him. He reached out his hands for the drink, his eyes lighting up with surprise and joy as if the promise of a refill had been long forgotten.

They sat there together for a little while, Thor slowly working through his drink, and Steve reaching over to press the back of his hand to his friend’s forehead. It was still scorching hot, and the Asgardian was already starting to glimmer with sweat again.

“Still not hungry?” Steve furrowed his brow, and Thor shook his head mournfully. “Okay... well you should try to eat something when you wake up. Do you feel ill?”

Thor frowned in confusion and opened his mouth.

“Oh, like... like you’re  gonna throw up,” Steve corrected.  _ Of course _ _ you feel ill. _

He had a think about it. “I don’t think so,” the prince confirmed.  _ Thank goodness. _

He’d finished his tea. Steve took the empty mug and set it safely to one side. “Sleep as much as you can,” he insisted. “I’ll be right here, and if you need something just tell me.”

Thor gave one jerky nod and shut his eyes, pulling the thin sheet up to his chest and resting his arms on top. Steve pressed the cloth back into his forehead, and got up to turn off the light. A few minutes later, Thor’s grip on the sheet loosened, and he was breathing as deeply as his congestion would allow. Steve got settled in his chair and selected a book from under it, leaning back to read it under the lamplight. Maybe the worst of this would be over in a few hours.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for typical gross stuff that can come with being sick. Snot, throwing up, all that fun stuff. I've euphemised it somewhat, but it's there.
> 
> Thanks for your feedback, as always, and enjoy!

Reading was a familiar pass-time, comfort food for his soul. That was the allure of reading, of stories, to take you away from your life and let you experience someone else’s. Steve had spent a lot of hours of his periods of sickness reading a book. Drawing made for a good escape, but often times he would find himself sketching places from his own mind. Sometimes, he just wanted to get out of his head, out of a body that was constantly betraying him.

Despite his never-ending health battles, some of which a matter of life or death, those had been simpler times. Now, with his perfect body, a book served as a pathway to feeling as he had over seventy years ago. As much as the stories captured him, and his serum-enhanced brain plus a natural artistic inclination allowed him to live the stories he read, reading surrounding him with the sensation that he was back in Brooklyn. Back with Bucky, sprawled on their old, springless couch, or perhaps in bed, just living in the moment. Sometimes battling for the next, other times just existing on a quiet evening. Sometimes it had been too cold to risk exposing his susceptible respiratory system, and so he had been stuck inside anyway. Others, too hot for his asthmatic lungs and low blood pressure.

Steve read anything he could get his hands on, his novels interspersed with historical non-fiction simply to help boost his chances of understanding a reference. It was not uncommon for him to look up a joke or two when his book was finished. Jokes based on knowledge of the cold war and what had started it. Sometimes whole books were written around those conflicts.

Learning history from research was like learning a language in a classroom. Reading fiction, however, was like traveling to the country and diving straight into the culture surrounding that language, learning connotation, nuances of speech, and colloquialisms.

He liked to draw the settings, too, and the characters. It felt painting a world around himself. That’s why Steve didn’t mind the longer, more verbose novels filled with exquisite detail and perhaps not so much pace and plot. He loved  _ Lord of the Rings _ . The beauty of it captured him.

That’s what he was reading now, and he was halfway through the first book.

Beside him, Thor stirred. Steve didn’t notice  right away, so buried in this fictional world. Too buried to notice that his friend had started to toss and turn.

It was a loud and pained whine that snapped him from his daydream. Steve slammed in the bookmark and ripped himself free of Middle Earth, setting the novel aside so he could focus on what was real. Thor had turned onto his side, the sweaty sheets entangled in his large hands, monstrous shoulders heaving under his rumpled shirt. He was speaking to himself, loud enough that Steve could make out it was in another language. A language he didn’t understand.

Whatever was being said certainly wasn’t good, not by the tone it was spoken in. Steve pushed out of the chair and padded closer. “Thor...?” he whispered.

There was no answer. Thor continued to chatter in what Steve could only assume was his native tongue. He was shivering, his whole body vibrating uncontrollably and with such exuberance that the bed shook.

But  _ there _ , just one word he could pick out from the rest. Steve froze solid, because he was pretty sure he had just heard ‘mamma’ mixed among a jumble of foreign sounds. Thor’s voice was so hoarse, lacking its usual timber and strong current, but he had  _ definitely _ said that one telling word. The God of Thunder had never looked so human. 

Whatever he was mumbling about, Thor was trapped in a dream, and not a pleasant one. Steve leaned over to find the demigod’s face streaked with tears, his forehead creased with discontent. When the Captain reached out his hand, he found his friend’s skin scorching to the touch, and his pulse wildly thumping. 

“Thor,” Steve gave him a gentle shake. “Thor, wake up.” A couple of hours must have passed since he’d fallen asleep. It was beyond due time for some water and a temperature check.

Thor churned the sheets in his hands and cried out. In pain, distress? There, the word ‘mamma’ again, a name, some more chatter. Steve promised himself to learn a little of his teammate’s language when this was all over. It was only fair. Then he might know what to do if this ever happened again, God forbid.

Another name appeared in the steady stream of ramblings: Loki. It was heavily accented, but instantly recognizable. Steve got to his knee and shook Thor a little harder, intent on breaking the demigod free of wherever the fever had trapped him.

It didn’t take too much coaxing. Thor’s lips slowed, running out of momentum and hanging open breathlessly. He still sounded congested, all through his sinuses and in his lungs. But he was awake, opening his eyes and blinking them until his eyelashes broke apart.

“Thor...?” Steve tried to keep sadness from his voice, but he couldn’t help if a little blended with his concern. “You... okay?” Such a stupid question to ask, but a necessity.

“Steve?” hardly any sound came out as the demigod tried to turn his head. He winced and quickly righted it, instead opting to roll over so he could face the soldier. Steve helped, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“Hey,” the Captain smiled in the lamplight.

Thor tried to clear his throat, but it didn’t do much for the hoarseness of his voice. He coughed into his arm and wiped his nose on his hand with a sniff, blinking wearily across the short gap separating them. “Hi.”

“You were dreaming,” Steve smiled, reaching up for the thermometer. Thor opened his mouth for it, but made no effort to sit up. In  fact he hardly moved, waiting patiently and  bonelessly for the device to finish measuring.  Finally it beeped, and Steve pulled it out to read the display. “110,” he declared quietly. How far did he let this climb before he took serious action? What serious action could he even  _ take? _ Toss Thor into an ice bath? Call Bruce? Call 911? Call  Asgard , somehow?

Thor at least had some inclination that this was getting serious. Maybe the number didn’t have anything to do with that, and he was only going off how he felt, which if it was anything near as bad as he looked, then he must feel awful. He said nothing, licking dry, cracked lips and shivering under the thin sheet.

“If this goes much  higher I’m going to have to do something about it,” Steve had to break the news. He frowned apologetically. “I’m not a doctor, definitely not an Asgardian one. You’re sure you don’t know what your normal temperature should be?”

Thor’s shivering froze, his whole body tensing as he tried to keep it still with obvious effort, trepidation clear in his shimmering eyes. “I need only rest-”

“You need medicine,” Steve corrected. “Unless this starts to go down in the next few hours, I’m getting help.”

“Steve, please...” Thor reached out his hand, wrapping it around the soldier’s arm and holding on tight. That usually strong, stable grip trembled no matter how hard the god tried to stop it.

“Hey,” Steve smiled, clasping the hand. “This’ll stay between you and me unless I absolutely have to get someone. That’s a last resort.”

That seemed to help, at least, but the fear still lingered. Thor was genuinely terrified, but of what Steve couldn’t decipher. It didn’t matter, because whatever it was, it was important. The prince didn’t let go, new tears welling. “S- steve ... please don’t send me back to  Asgard .”

As if he could. That was his first thought, before the severity of the request struck his heart and made it quiver. Thor was  _ begging _ not to be returned to his home planet, where his people lived, where he could get proper medicine and someone of his species to look him over and take care of him properly. And it wasn’t just that he didn’t prefer to go, he was  _ scared _ of going back. Overwhelmed by the desperation to make all of this go away, to wipe away the suffering of every kind, Steve reached out for Thor’s other hand and clasped them both in his. “I won’t,” he promised sincerely. “If that’s what you want, then I won’t.”

Was it too early to be making that sort of promise? What if this was a serious illness and he didn’t know it? What if the only cure was medicine or magic only available on Asgard, or this illness could only be diagnosed with Asgardian medicines and Asgardian doctors to prescribe them? What if it was too late already, and he had condemned the prince to death? Regardless, it was too late to go back now, because Thor exhaled a god-sized sigh of relief, all his attempts to conceal the severity of his shivering abandoned. His body shook, and a handful of tears dribbled free.

Steve pried the hand from his arm and set it on the mattress next to the other one. “Let’s get you something to drink then,” he suggested with an encouraging smile.  _ I'll fix this. With everything I have I’ll fix this. _

Thor looked at him with gratitude, his impressive muscles near spasming as he shivered under the tortures of his fever. “Thank you.”

“You can thank me when you’re better,” the Captain stood. “I’m going to get you some water and something to eat. Sit up, okay?”

Thor gave one small nod, and started to drag his limbs across the sheets with a wince and groan. Steve turned and hurried out of the room, deeply troubled.

He filled a glass with water and reheated some soup, boiling the kettle while he was at it. A few minutes later, he was throwing everything onto a tray, alongside some crackers, and carrying it back into the room. He switched on the light and sat down, placing the tray in his lap and the bowl in Thor’s. The demigod had managed to hoist himself sitting, and had wiped his face somewhat dry in the process. He looked even paler now that the lights were on, and his eyes were framed in a deep grey-purple. One look at the soup and he drained further of color.

“Just try,” Steve suggested, offering the water. “At least drink as much as you can. It’ll flush out the sickness.” The immune system needed fluids to fight off infection. Surely that must be true for most species.

Thor did as he was told and ate, picking up the bowl and resting it against his chest. He took to it with a spoon, swallowing small mouthfuls at a time while Steve watched him carefully. The prince’s eyes were glazed over, his mind trapped in a world far from this one.

Steve’s own mind wandered away too, drifting back to the photo, Thor’s mumblings, his fears, his distressing request. The soldier thought back to what his friend had said, about Steve not talking about his family for a reason. Thor must have his own reasons too, for not sharing whatever tormented him deeply enough to stimulate a nightmare of that severity. Steve didn’t ask, either, though he wanted to. What gave him the right to know about his teammates when he hadn’t shared anything about himself with them? What made him think they would trust him with their personal torments when he hadn’t trusted them with his?

It still felt like a crime to sit here and watch in silence as Thor struggled through a fraction of the food he was normally capable of consuming in one sitting. He barely got through half the bowl before he stopped dead, eyes drawing back to the present.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, swallowing forcefully. “I cannot.”

“That’s okay,” Steve smiled and instantly reached over to rescue the bowl. It was barely halfway empty. “Here,” he offered the water, making sure the demigod had a good grip on the glass before daring to let go. Thor sipped at it, discomforted by the cold liquid passing through his shivering body. Steve really wished he could allow his friend to wrap himself up in thick duvets, but not until that fever was on its way down.

The water was finished, so Steve proudly exchanged the glass for a mug of his lemon-ginger-honey mixture. Thor’s face lit up when it was offered, and he immediately stuck it under his nose so the vapors could waft up his sinuses. He inhaled the aroma, hovering his mouth over the hot liquid and breathing in as deeply as he could manage. Then he had a sip, and some of the suffering melted into bliss.

Yet, Steve couldn’t allow himself to feel satisfied. This wasn’t enough. Thor had no obligation to share anything, but Steve needed to at least make sure the demigod knew this was a safe place to speak freely, and that his Captain – his  _ friend _ – would listen. Unfortunately, he just wasn’t sure how to do that.

“You  wanna watch something?” Steve offered lamely.  _ I can do better. I  _ have _ to do better.  _ He just wasn’t sure how to go about  that. “Or...”

“I don’t think I could...” Thor admitted, staring into his mug. He was squinting and wincing at every shift of his head. “This headache... it has migrated. And... intensified.”

It must have moved down his neck, then. It was probably clenching his sinuses, too, the way he reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. Staring at a screen wouldn’t be any good for that, then.

“Steve.” Thor’s grip on his mug was slipping, his face washed of all color, even his fevered flush. He was scrambling the sheets with his legs.

“What,” the Captain moved in, gently grasping the tipping mug and setting it safely to one side.

“It’s... I’m... I feel sick.”

Uh-oh. Steve moved like lightning, throwing the sheets out of the way and helping Thor to his feet. It was a calculation, finding the perfect speed: they needed to reach the bathroom as fast as possible, but preferably without the demigod hurling in between. Thor was struggling to move forward, so much so that Steve nearly just scooped him up and carried him the rest of the way. But they made it, just in time.

“Tub,” Steve urged, letting go so the Asgardian could stagger forward and collapse beside it. He flicked on the light and tucked himself just outside the door to offer his friend some privacy.

Barely a second passed before the most horrible sound he’d ever heard echoed through the bathroom. Steve had been violently sick several times before the serum, and the force with which his small body could project the contents of his stomach had frankly been impressive. If that was the damage his pre-serum body could do, well, that was definitely magnified to scale with Thor’s. He tried to console himself that maybe after this, the Asgardian’s body would expel the virus on its own, and this would be over. Sometimes you had to get worse before you could get better. Sometimes you just had to let the body do everything it could to eject the sickness.

It sounded painful. Steve waited until he heard the sound of water running before he entered the bathroom. Thor was there, hunched over the tub and collapsing sideways. Soup washed down the drain as the demigod fumbled for the pin to redirect the water to the shower head. He leaned forward and stuck his head under the cool stream, coughing and flushed with his efforts. Steve had a quick glance before all the evidence was swept away, glad to find there was no blood in it. The contents of Thor’s stomach was striking minimal, only the soup he’d had just now and a few hours ago. When was the last time he’d eaten before then?

Steve got to his knee and placed a steadying hand between Thor’s shoulder blades, giving it a gentle rub as the prince coughed again and spat into the tub before going completely limp. Steve jolted, worried that his friend had passed out, but the demigod sighed and spoke in a gravelly voice. “I have never suffered something so draining, and I have fought in many bloody battles.”

“When this is over, you’ll look back on it and chuckle,” Steve promised, pushing an amused smile through his sympathy. He worked his hand up Thor’s spine and rubbed the base of his neck without really thinking. “Hey... just breathe. You’re doin’ good.”

“Am I?” Thor’s own chuckle was mirthless and self-pitying. He slumped even further forward, his arm and head resting against the cold ceramic of the bathtub. “Yet I am to believe you suffered through consistent bouts of illness in your childhood. You must think me pathetic.”

Steve sat on the tiled floor, uncaring of how touchy he was suddenly feeling. There was an unconquerable desire to be close to the demigod, to offer contact and comfort beyond what he had ever felt compelled to offer someone. Bucky aside, maybe. Thor’s muscles were so locked in a stiff, shivering mess that he couldn’t help but try to coax them loose with strong fingers. He paused though, clasping Thor’s neck and holding absolutely still so they could both focus on the conversation.

“You read my file?” that was confusing to him. He wasn’t sure why.

“I skimmed it,” Thor glanced away. 

“Well... yeah. You’re right. I was sick a lot as a kid. Sometimes it was bad, bad as this at least. Once or twice they weren’t sure I’d make it. Means I know better than anybody how much it sucks, right?” He looked Thor dead in the eyes, and the Asgardian gave one small nod. “Right.  So I’ll say it again: the only thing worse than this, is fighting through it alone. Just because –  _ especially _ because I went through this myself, I won’t leave you on your own. You’re not pathetic. You’re the toughest guy I know, and you’re toughin’ through this like a champ.”

Sickness was sometimes worse than injury, because sickness was more unpredictable, and was harder to fight. Besides, anything that involved the head was worse to deal with.

Thor chewed on those thoughts for a moment, sounding like he’d run a god-length marathon then swallowed a bucket of rocks as he breathed in short gasps. When he finally opened his mouth to speak, the only thing that came out was a rough cough. He quickly leaned his head back over the tub and aimed, Steve clasping his neck supportively. They both hung in wait, but nothing else came up. The wave passed, and all of Thor’s six-foot-plus frame drooped.

“So much for lunch, huh,” Steve smiled sympathetically, looping his arm under the prince’s. “Come on, nice and slow. I gotcha. Finish your tea, then back to sleep. You’ll feel better when you wake up.”

“I’m not sure I could,” Thor grated, barely audible and relying on Steve to right himself. He winced and rubbed his eyes as the blood rushed to his head, swallowing painfully. For a moment he looked like he might be sick again, but after a couple of moments he stabilized and opened his eyes.

“What, sleep?” Steve asked, not hesitating to drape the arm in his custody across his shoulders and hold the demigod close to his body. Thor nodded. “Hurts? Uncomfortable?” It could be tough to get to sleep sometimes with clogged sinuses and nausea, but surely the Asgardian was too tired to be kept awake by those things. He certainly looked it, breathing through his lips like he was giving birth. Steve could feel his heart rate through their connection, and it was still racehorse fast. Tachycardia was a wearing symptom.

“No. I mean, yes...” Thor swallowed again, pushing one foot in front of the other as they fought their way back to the bed. “But... those won’t keep me awake.”

Therefore, there was only one other thing Steve could think of. “Nightmares,” he offered quietly, lowering Thor to the mattress and looping the arm over his head.

“I can’t endure another...” Thor whispered shakily, “please, Steve...”

Steve had no clue what the demigod was asking of him... To keep him awake? He licked his lips and draped the sheets back over Thor’s shivering body. He handed over the rest of the tea mixture. “I... I know.”  _ I’ll keep you out of those nightmare worlds, wherever they are, best I can.  _ Steve smiled with revelation. “I’ll read you a book, how about that? You just close your eyes and listen. You read many books?”

Thor crinkled his nose, but his eyes were brightly glowing with curiosity as he sipped from his mug. “Not many, no.”

Odd, given what an extravagant story-teller the demigod was. Steve slid his books from under his chair and sat them in his lap, shuffling through them. “We’ve got... a mystery thriller? Natasha likes these. She loaned me this. Or how about... a mystery romance? She doesn’t mind these either. I’ve got an action adventure, a science-fiction thriller...” he looked up to gauge Thor’s response, but the prince didn’t appear any less interested by one genre than he did the next. “Okay, how about this one,” Steve picked the mystery-thriller from his pile and set the others aside. A gripping tale was just what Thor needed to break free of his own thoughts. A tale of suspense and genius plots.

“Alright,” Thor agreed, a bit of hope trickling into the deep, dark pool of suffering. He got comfortable, sipping the last dregs of tea.

“Good, hang on a sec,” Steve put his selected book down and stood up, setting the empty mug on the lampstand. He gathered the cloths he’d brought out and wet them in the bowl of cool water, laying one across Thor’s forehead, and wrapping the other around his neck. That should help with the headache, and the fever.

The Captain sat and opened the book to the first page.

\--

About halfway through the second chapter, Thor drifted off to sleep. His snores gave him away, his deepened breathing intensifying the rattling. Steve quietly folded over the corner of the page and put aside the book. He shut off the lamp and wet the cloths, resting his knuckles against the demigod’s cheek. The fever felt like it had leveled out, though it was still hovering at a terrifying intensity.

_ Get lots of rest. Sleep through tonight, tomorrow even, as long as it takes for you to get better, and not have to suffer through another second of this. _

Steve got up for fresh cold water and a few more washcloths. Peggy’s picture was still watching over him on the shelf. He stared at it, wishing she were here to give him courage and wisdom.

He missed his mother. She would know what to do. Not that he didn’t know how to tackle these symptoms, simply through experience, but Sarah would have known what to say. She would have known how to ease Thor’s heart. Steve didn’t even know how to begin helping the demigod with whatever he was afraid of. Steve himself wasn’t afraid of much, nothing physical at least. Not monsters, big men with guns, or the advancements of technology. Spiders were gross, and he didn’t fancy them, but he wasn’t bone-chilled terrified of them. The fear shining in Thor’s eyes had only manifested in Steve’s own heart for very specific threats.  _ Emotional _ threats. The kind that couldn’t be punched or blown up. The kind he couldn’t stick his shield in front of. Fear of loss, inadequacy, loneliness. 

He wasn’t afraid of cold and ice as he was the sensations it brought. Maybe Thor had something like that in his life, something tied to  Asgard that had scarred him. Something recent, maybe? Steve shook his head; he had no place making assumptions when he hardly knew the man.

Steve took that opportunity to have a quick shower, listening intently to the bedroom just through the doorway as he did. Once he was clean and dressed, he strode soundlessy out to the kitchen for some dinner.

They’d been here for a whole day, according to the clock on the stove. Twelve hours. This could drag on for several days, Steve realized as he thought back to his youth. Even if the worst of the symptoms blew over in the twelve hours to come, it could still take Thor the better part of a week to shake this off and be back to normal. He had no evidence or expertise to back that up, but it was possible. Hell,  _ anything _ was possible: Thor could shake this off in another hour and be completely fine, or he could be ill for a month. 

Unable to tear himself away, Steve returned to the bedside and took his place in the chair. 

His wishes were dashed several hours into his own book, around midnight, when Thor stirred again. There was a sniff and whimper, and Steve quickly shoved his book away.

“Water,” Steve set the glass right to Thor’s lips, forgoing actually handing it to him. “Sleep okay?”

Thor’s fingers brushed his as they came up to grasp the cup. He hummed against the rim, but the sound lay somewhere between a ‘so-so’ and an affirmative. He licked his lips, opening his mouth for the thermometer as it was brandished.

“Need anything?” Steve asked, inspecting the display. Thor didn’t answer, panting laboriously. The Captain supposed it was difficult to know what was available to help with his myriad of symptoms. It was also possible the demigod was still apprehensive about receiving aid.  _ 111...  _ Steve paled and set the thermometer aside.

“Is it worse?” Thor asked, the edge of fear prominent in his voice. Steve nodded apologetically, and prince turned his gaze away in defeat.

“There are a few more things we can try,” the soldier quickly promised. “Ice bath should get it down. You think you can stand?”

On another day, he might have expected indignance at such a question, but Thor genuine pondered it. He started to move, but froze and braced his head with a hand, squeezing his eyes shut with a wince. “Hurts,” he murmured.

Perhaps that’s what had woken him up. “Worse than before?”

“Mm hm.”

“Okay.” Steve nudged his chair out of the ways and reached over, gently pushing his friend back down. “You just rest there for a minute. I’ll get the bath ready.” He hated to leave Thor by himself, but he had to, if only for a few minutes.

“Steve...” Thor stopped him, grabbing his wrist. His grip was getting consistently weaker and clumsier, but there was no less purpose behind it, and the fear in his eyes was back. “Steve...”

The demigod had hold of his chest with his other hand, clutching it tightly as if to rip out his own heart and throw it somewhere far, far away, where it could never bother him again. Steve had felt like that before, had felt sorrow so heavy and deep he could taste it. He’d felt that sorrow reflecting in Thor’s blue, blue eyes. “I know,” the Captain whispered in reply, getting to his knee and leaning over. “But it’ll be okay. You’ll get better. I’ll do everything I can, I swear to you on anything you want. And if I’m not enough on my own, then I’ll go wherever you have to go for help. I won’t leave  you, I promise. You won’t be alone.” He laid his hand over the one on  Thor’s chest and laced their fingers, pushing it flat and holding it there. He squeezed it tightly.

That last part sealed the deal. Thor’s shivers halted for a moment before starting up again with more vigor. His eyes were welling with tears, but his lips were pulling into little smile. Steve didn’t hesitate to pull Thor into his arms, didn’t pause to think about drawing the other man into a warm embrace. Thor hugged him back, openly sobbing into his shoulder.

This was the second time they had locked their bodies together so tightly and shared a moment. It wasn’t even the first tear the demigod had shed, but these were the first to be completely unrestrained. They were fat and messy, soaking a huge patch on Steve’s shirt in seconds. Thor was already congested to the point of suffocating, but he sounded even worse as his face leaked copious amounts of fluid, and his body shuddered under the force of their release on top of the already-present tremor of fever.

“Shh,” Steve maintained his perch. “Shh, it’s okay. It sucks, but you’ll get through it.”  _ Cry it out, come on. You’ll feel better, and the bug might just drain out of you this way. I’ll have to incinerate my shirt, but it’s a small sacrifice. _

“You are a very good friend,” Thor murmured, hitching a breath and swallowing wetly. He sniffed and his arms fell away from the hug. He made no effort to pull away though.

“Not really,” Steve smiled, rubbing circles into Thor’s shoulder. “I don’t know that much about you, and we’ve been a team for... a couple months now? You don’t know too much about me, either. I haven’t been that honest with any of you.”

“We’re all afraid,” Thor mumbled, “perhaps. Of what the other may think of us. It is not only you.”

“I’m supposed to be the leader,” Steve corrected. “Lead by example, right?”

“Only if you feel comfortable and safe,” Thor replied, reaching up behind Steve’s back to wipe his nose on his hand. “Perhaps we have failed to make you feel that way.”

“Maybe we all failed each other,” Steve sighed. “Or maybe... we’re just all too awkward and messed up to take care of ourselves.”

“I do not think that is the case,” Thor pulled back a little, managing to stay sitting. His face was swollen and wet with sweat and other fluids. He looked beyond terrible, but his eyes were slightly sharpened, and his tone serious. “Perhaps... when this is over...” he sniffed and look down at his hands rested on the tangled sheets. “Perhaps I may be honest with you.”

“’course,” Steve smiled.  _ You’re so much braver than I am... Taking the leap...  _ "You deserve for me to be honest with you, too.”

“I deserve nothing from you,” the prince retorted, but there was no confidence behind the claim. “You owe me nothing.”

“You don’t owe me anything either,” Steve clamped a hand around Thor’s shoulder. “You do what’s right, and because it’s what you want. That’s why you’re here. Because I want it.” Not because of pity, or obligation. “If you want to talk, I’ll listen.”

Thor bowed his head again and braced his forehead with his hand. His fingers soon slipped over his eyes, tears dripping through them and trailing down his already-soaked cheeks. He shuddered, struggling to hold himself together. “I apologize,” he rasped softly. “I do not have control of myself.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Steve blurted, grabbing Thor’s arm and drawing him forward to resume the hug. “Don’t be. Sometimes you just  gotta cry it out. Feels good. Cry as much as you want.”

It had taken him a long time to learn that bottling himself up did more harm than good, especially in the long run. It was still hard to let himself loose, but it felt amazing once he did. Steve drew Thor’s head into his chest and held it there. He hadn’t been this close to anyone in a long time. A strange urge to kiss the top of Thor’s head on his shaggy blonde hair was overwhelming, and he nearly did. He wasn’t sure why he stopped himself.

Thor got comfortable, shifting so he could better lean against Steve’s chest. He pillowed his cheek on one pec and got settled, turning his head into the groove between the muscles once he was comfortable and allowing the tears to flow once again. It was definitely born of more than just distress for his condition and how miserable he felt, but Steve didn’t pry. He just sat steady, acting as the pillar he needed to be.

Finally, Thor pulled away. It seemed as though he had fallen asleep for a moment, with how still and quiet he’d gone, but he was very much awake, rubbing his eyes. “You were right,” he mumbled.

Steve smiled. “Good. Let’s get that fever down then.” With new purpose, Thor nodded in agreement, turning himself to sit cross-legged on the bed. He still looked just as ill, with his shirt clung to his body with sweat, and the dark circles around his eyes, but he seemed... lighter. Steve handed him a tissue and one of the damp cloths that had fallen. “Be right back,” he promised, jogging off to the bathroom.

In minutes, he had the water running cold, and all the ice from the freezer dumped in. He was just tipping in the last tray when he heard the sound of blowing, followed by a brief pause and an urgent shout. “Steve! Help!”

Steve shut off the water and clumsily dropped the ice tray in the sink, bolting out into the bedroom. Thor sat on the edge of the bed, holding a bloody tissue in a bloody hand. More blood gushed out of his nose, dribbling on the floor, on his clothes, and all over the sheets. He shakily shoved the tissue against his nose, but it quickly became soaked and useless.

Steve ran, snatching the box of tissues off the table and yanking out a handful. He shoved them against Thor’s nose and gathered the prince’s hand. “Hold here,” he ordered. “Hold!” That was a  _ lot _ of blood – 

Thor obeyed, another shade paler as he squeezed the bridge of his nose tightly, staring wide-eyed at the carnage surrounding him. Blood tended to spread, a small amount covering a lot of surface area and standing out in all its vibrance, but still... Steve had to admit, this was a lot.

“Lean forward,” he cradled the back of the prince’s neck and drew it forward, frantically wetting the cloth and replacing his hand with it. “Keep holding. Don’t let go.”

Thor didn’t. He kept his fingers clamped in place, maintaining pressure until Steve finally reached up to draw it away, kneeling by the bedside. The tissues were drenched, so the Captain quickly grabbed a few more just in case. They both watched for those few painful seconds as nothing happened. There was hope, then, that this was over. It wasn’t. Another dribble of blood trailed down the half-dried smear painting Thor’s upper lip. Both of them pushed the tissues back into place, and the demigod resumed pressure. Were his shivers out of terror or sickness? Both, probably. His eyes had glazed over, and he was still staring at the blood all over his fingers, dotted in his lap, and soaking into the carpet. 

“It’s okay,” Steve promised. “It’s okay. It might take a minute or two to clot. It’s okay.” With his low platelets in his pre-serum days, it could take a long time for a nose-bleed to stop. Steve remembered a couple very serious ones that had refused to stop no matter how hard he pushed. He’d never clotted that well, had bruised at firm touch. It had gotten a little better as he got older, but not by much. This was comparably serious.  _ I should have gone for help well before now. _

They waited in silence, Steve rubbing Thor’s shoulder and holding steady, ready with the tissues. He didn’t bother trying to soak up the spilled blood. It would have to be dealt with later. Finally, they dared pull back the tissues. They watched and waited, and to their relief nothing happened. The bleeding had stopped.

Thor slumped and dropped his arm against his knee, letting go of the blood-soaked tissues, skin whiter than the untarnished sheets. Steve picked up the other cloth and pried the reddened tissues from his hand. He wiped the Asgardian’s hands clean, dipping the cloth in water and getting into the grooves of skin as best he could. He worked between the fingers, and Thor let him, watching wordlessly. “You’re alright,” he murmured, over and over again until he was done.

He moved up, cupping Thor’s cheek s he could wipe his face. The demigod leaned into it and shut his eyes, submitting to the gentle wipes. And Steve was gentle, fearful of moving too sharply and breaking the infant blood clot holding back the torrents.

“I’ll clean the rest off in the bath,” Steve suggested quietly. “Thor? Come on, bath. It won’t be fun, but it’ll get that fever down. I’ll help you, and we’ll take it slow.”

Thor shifted and opened his considerably more glazed eyes. He put his feet on the floor and flopped into Steve as his arm was draped across the Captain’s shoulder. He let himself be hauled to his feet, hardly able to provide much assistance.

They were balanced and standing for about four seconds before Thor’s legs completely collapsed, and his whole body pitched forward. Had Steve not been as strong as he was, the weight would have brought him down. As it was, he managed to catch the falling demigod, easing his descent and slowing it enough to lay him on the floor. “Thor!”

Thor had passed out.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your feedback! Glad you're enjoying this B)

“Thor!” Yelling wasn’t going to work, but he tried anyway. Maybe the demigod had just closed his eyes for a moment. Maybe all the blood had rushed to his head, and he would wake up in a second or two. He didn’t, his sweaty, bloody face completely relaxed for the first time in hours. “Thor, wake up, come on!” Steve tried again as he moved. 

_ I have to do something. I have to get help.  _ Help from where? Whatever, Thor was going in the bath regardless of who he got hold  of. Steve thanked Dr. Erskine in his head as he easily picked the three-hundred-pound demigod off the floor. His friend was  _ heavy, _ but not too heavy for a super-soldier. It didn’t feel quite right carrying Thor in his arms like a bride, but there was no better way. He nudged the bathroom door all the way open with his foot and lowered his friend straight into the tub.

“JARVIS,” he panted, “where’s Bruce?”

“Doctor Banner is in his lab. Shall I summon him for you?”

“Contact him,” Steve agreed, pulling off his shirt and throwing it indiscriminately away. He pinched Thor’s nose and covered his mouth, pushing the prince’s head under the water. Thank goodness this was a gargantuan bathtub, though Thor’s knees were still bent and his feet half out of the water.

It didn’t take long for JARVIS to connect them. “Steve, what’s wrong?”

“Banner, Thor’s got a one-eleven fever,” Steve gasped out, cradling the demigod’s head above water so he could breathe again. “He just passed out on me. I’m giving him an ice bath, but he’s really sick.”

It likely wasn’t at all what the doctor would have expected to happen today, or any day for that matter, but he didn’t show any surprise in his voice. “Get him down to my lab. You can carry him here?”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed rapidly. “Yeah, I can.”

“I’ll get some stuff set up. See you soon.” That calm professionalism was steadying. Steve did pretty well under pressure, but his heart felt so tight he could hardly think. All of this was so sickening, like it shouldn’t be possible on any planet.

“Shall I alert the others?” JARVIS intervened.

“No!” Steve jolted. “No, don’t tell them. Not yet.” Thor had been apprehensive to let anyone else in on this, so he would do his best to honor the prince’s wishes. Was that it? Was Thor afraid of appearing weak in front of his colleagues? Of destroying that image of endless power?

Steve pulled the drain plug and hauled Thor out of the tub, not caring that his pants quickly became soaked. He didn’t bother with drying, getting to his knee and adjusting his carry. Thor’s head rested on his shoulder, struggling breaths tickling the soldier’s neck. The prince’s legs wrapped around his back, arm dangling over his back, and he lifted them both off the floor with a grunt.

“JARVIS, are the hallways clear?” Steve asked as he opened his suite door.

“Everyone is currently either asleep or occupied,” the AI confirmed. Perfect.

“Take me to Banner’s lab,” Steve slid into the elevator, firmly holding Thor’s unconscious body against his chest. He could feel the persistent flame of fever where the prince’s cheek was pushing into the base of his neck. The elevator ride took forever, and Steve’s tapped his foot impatiently.

Bruce was waiting for him by the door, a white lab coat thrown over his sweater and jeans. “I’m going to need a breakdown of what happened,” the doctor led him hurriedly into a little area he’d sectioned off, eyes alight with alarm. “ Get him on the bed.”

Steve obeyed, taking long strides to the bed Bruce must have stolen from Medical (or maybe already kept up here), and laying Thor carefully onto the sheets. “He, uh, came looking for me yesterday morning. He had a one-o-eight fever, and it’s only gotten worse since. He had a bowl and a half of canned soup, but he threw it up a couple of hours ago. He had a really bad nosebleed, just now, then he stood up and just... dropped.” Had he missed anything...?

“Here, get him into this,” Bruce tossed him a hospital gown. “There’s a laundry hamper over there.” He pointed as he rummaged for some supplies.

Steve pulled off Thor’s wet clothes, ignoring the expanses of exposed flesh glowing pink over miles of sculpted muscle. He quickly worked on the gown, juggling his damp, naked friend. The gown hardly fit, barely reaching mid-thigh. Steve did up the ties, but left the top one undone and folded down the corner of the powder blue fabric. Bruce arrived with a silver tray table adorned with needles and vials.

“Grab the vitals machine,” he pointed over Steve’s shoulder, “and get those electrodes on his chest.” Bruce pointed on his own body where they went, then went straight to swabbing over the biggest vein he could find. Luckily, Thor’s veins were still prominent despite how shrunken they were.

Steve pressed the electrodes into Thor’s skin, wiping the sweat away with the gown before sticking them down. He clipped on the leads and switched on the machine.

“Do you have any idea what might have caused this?” Bruce asked as he drew back blood into a vial.

Steve shook his head, raising the railing on his side, mostly so he could have something to lean on. He clenched it tightly in his fists. “No clue. Thor was just as confused.”

“No kidding...” the doctor filled a few vials and clamped the line so he could run the samples over to his centrifuge. “We’ll try to bring down his symptoms, then I’ll see if I can’t find what’s causing them. Asgardian blood isn’t that much different from ours.”

“You’ve studied it before?” Steve looked up.

“A little,” Bruce admitted somewhat bashfully, as if it were a mad-scientist move to make. “I asked, and Thor let me take some blood.” He focused on the IV in the demigod’s forearm, taping it down and connecting the line to a bag of saline.

Steve smiled. “That’s a step ahead.” He glanced down at Thor’s lax expression, huge shoulders barely contained in the gown, whiter than the sheets beneath him. Bruce offered out a thin blanket, and the soldier drew it across.

“It is,” the doctor agreed, hooking up the bag and checking the drip flow. “It means we don’t need to worry about making solutions that are isotonic for his blood. Whatever we can use in humans, it won’t collapse or bloat his cells. It might do other harm, but there’s that at least.”

A bit of fluid would do the Asgardian good. Steve nodded. “What can I do?”

“Here, you can try to bring his fever down,” Bruce passed him some ice packs from the fridge in the corner. “Get the blood pressure cuff on him. There should be a thermometer and pulse oximeter in there too. Take a set of vitals.”

Steve could do that. He pulled a couple of folded towels from a shelf and wrapped them around the ice packs, pushing them under Thor’s arm pits and between his thighs. Then he connected the rest of the equipment and pushed the thermometer into the prince’s ear while Bruce moved one of his vials to inspect the contents.

The machine beeped, and Bruce got up. He took off his glasses and walked over to stand beside Steve as they both stared at the screen. “No wonder he passed out,” the doctor breathed. “Hypertension, tachycardia, a fever like that... His O2 levels are... low.  Plus dehydration? It’s a good thing you brought him here, even just for the fluids.”

“What do we do?” Steve turned to look at the man, at a total loss.

“I can try him on some antibiotics, but I really don’t want to give him anything he doesn’t need. Especially since we don’t know how his system might respond to human medicine,” Bruce concluded apologetically. “I need to do a few more tests before I can decide that, but even then... you can never really be sure until you try with these things. He could have an allergic reaction, or... worse.”

At least they had something to work with, though.

Bruce nudged a chair his way and went over to his computers and microscopes and devices, sitting down to work. Steve pulled the chair right up to the bed and propped Thor a bit higher, sitting down and leaning on the railing. He hoped the fluids would be enough. 

He wasn’t sitting long. Feeling restless, Steve stepped out of the lab for a moment. He jogged back up to his room, and gathered some supplies. He grabbed his books, his container of lemon-ginger mixture, and some spare, clean clothes. He found some ginger ale in the fridge and brought that too. This might be a long sleep-over in Bruce’s lab, so Steve snagged himself a spare pillow and blanket.

Bruce looked up from his work and got up when Steve returned. “JARVIS is running some tests,” he explained, tucking his glasses into his shirt and following to the bed. “Thor hasn’t made a peep.”

Steve set down his supplies and organized it on the little table nearby. “Mind if I stay here with him?”

“Not at all,” Bruce smiled. “It’s good to have an extra hand sometimes. Besides, I think he’d prefer your company to mine.”

Steve cocked his head with a little smile of confusion and perhaps embarrassment. “You’re his friend too.”

“Yes,” Bruce agreed knowingly, “but he definitely prefers you. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed that he always sits beside you whenever the team hangs out...”

“Yeah, well, we always sit together,” Steve shrugged. “You usually sit with Tony or Nat.”

Bruce chuckled and shook his head. “Steve... You haven’t noticed all the little nudges and pats he gives you?”

“He’s a friendly guy. He’s always hugging everybody,” Steve replied automatically. Surely Thor was just as handsy with everyone else as he was with the Captain... 

“He can hardly tear his eyes off you when the two of you are in the same room,” Bruce turned to walk back to his equipment. “I guess you wouldn’t notice that...” The doctor sat in his chair and turned to face the soldier, one eyebrow raised a fraction, and his eyes glinting with a revelation Steve had yet to discover.

“To be honest, I hadn’t noticed,” Steve stole a glance at Thor’s sleeping face, watching his chest push against the blanket and gown as it swelled with breath. Well, perhaps ‘swell’ was a strong word...

“Out of all of us, he went to you for help,” Bruce shrugged and turned back around, pressing his eye to the lens of his microscope. “I’m just saying, you’re clearly his favorite.”

Steve looked down at his hands clasped in his lap, mulling those words over in his head, and what they implied. Thor  _ had _ come to him for a reason. He’d considered the reason might be that Steve would be the most understanding about the situation, and  would know what to do. Thor wouldn’t want pity, though it appeared he wanted comfort of some kind, for his heart as much as his ailments. Everyone had been sick, being human, but nobody had been sick quite like Steve had. Thor would know that, having read his file. Or skimmed it, apparently.  _ How much of that did you read?  _ Enough to know that Steve was the guy to get him through this. Or maybe Thor would have come his way regardless. Bruce  _ was _ right: the demigod was often at Steve’s side whenever the team were together. They would sit side-by-side for games and food, or stand shoulder-to-shoulder at debriefs. If the battle allowed it, they frequently paired up. They made a good team.

Bruce was right, too, that Thor liked to get physical. But now that Steve did the math, the realized the demigod truly did nudge him around a bit more than the others. He smiled to himself, unsure as to why a warm was spreading through his cheeks. 

The vitals machine beeped in distress, and both doctor and Captain whipped around to face the display. It took a moment for Steve to process all the numbers and decide which grievous readings were declaring an emergency.

“His O2 levels are at eighty percent,” Bruce came over, professional but starting to show the deeper worry hidden underneath the thin later balanced on top of his calm exterior. “Good thing I brought oxygen.”

“His breathing has been rattling for a while now,” Steve mentioned. “He was coughing and it sounded congested.”

“Whatever this infection is, it’s not sparing any expenses,” Bruce handed Steve some tubing and connected it to the oxygen while the soldier looped it over Thor’s ears and tucked it under his nose. They both looked over at the readings, staring at the number until it froze where it was a solid eighty percent, then tentatively increased by one.

“Could be some form of super-powered alien pneumonia,” Bruce mused, grabbing a stethoscope and pulling open the gown. Thor’s chest glowed under the soft lighting, his ribs bruising from coughing so hard, and because he wasn’t clotting as well as he should. The doctor rested the metal probe just under Thor’s left breast, listening intently. He moved higher up, then Steve rolled Thor toward him so Bruce could reach the Asgardian’s back. The doctor finally put away his utensils and crossed his arms thoughtfully, the slightest sympathetic frown creasing his eyebrows as he stared down at Thor’s sweaty, heaving chest. “There’s some fluid in his lungs, but not a huge amount. His heart is beating way too hard, and way too fast, though.”

Steve pulled the gown closed, but didn’t bother with the strings. He tucked the blankets back up and smoothed them out carefully. He reached up to smooth back damp strands of hair. It needed a brush, but there was no helping that. Thor’s hair was bound to get rumpled. It wasn’t as limp as Steve had expected, though. Not as soft as it should be, but not unpleasant to run his fingers through. He tries to get a couple of knots out with his fingers.

Bruce cleared his throat, and Steve sat back. “I’ll keep working on that blood sample,” he explained. “You keep an eye on him, and let me know if anything takes a drastic turn for the worst.”

Steve nodded firmly, and the doctor walked away.

Thor looked so drastically different than he usually did, even to when he wasn’t wearing his battle armor and was just wandering around in jeans and a t-shirt. Right  now he looked as though all his layers of purpose and confidence and strength had been stripped away.  _ This _ was a man in pain, a man who was tired, a man drained of everything while all that could be drained back in was some saline solution and oxygen through clear plastic tubes. Thor, who had come to Earth and fought for them countless times, with nothing to gain, and asking nothing in return. He had saved each of them on the battle field at least once individually, had taken the brunt of battles many times more in order to protect his human colleagues. He’d ripped HYDRA bases wide open, tearing apart concrete so the others could get in. He’d distracted the enemy numerous times and drawn their fire onto himself so the others could sneak in unharmed. Steve was always ready to throw himself in front of someone else to protect them, but Thor was just as willing. Only, the demigod never got in trouble for it because where Steve might walk away with broken bones or holes in him, Thor just brushed it off.

These past few months hunting HYDRA hadn’t led to many serious injuries, but Thor had always been there after a tough battle, coming to find him while they all regrouped, checking him over to make sure he was okay, and then quietly offering his shoulder to lean on if things hadn’t gone too well. Steve had liked that. Asking for help was tough, and he would prefer to just tough through it while the others got the attention they needed. The serum would always fix him. But having Thor wordless tuck himself under the soldier’s arm if he was walking a bit stiff or didn’t look quite balanced had been a blessing.

And yet, he had no clue what on Earth or all the Nine Realms could bring fear like that into the eyes of the demigod. Those compassionate, charming blue eyes.

Someone had really hurt Thor. Hurt his heart, at least. Steve wished he knew, so he could be that shoulder to lean on, properly. For now, he would just have to wait until the god opened his eyes. Right  now he was still soundly unconscious, breathing loudly through his mouth. Those respirations didn’t seem so frantic, though, with the extra oxygen hissing through the cannula and into his body. The machine hailed improvement on that front, at least. Everything else had leveled out.

Steve grabbed the thermometer again and fitted the end with a plastic covering, pushing the probe into Thor’s ear. 112, the display read. And Thor had stopped shaking entirely.  _ Let’s hope Bruce can figure something out, _ Steve thought, and though these results were bad, it was reassuring to know someone else was working on a solution in the background. That didn’t mean the Captain would stop doing whatever he could too. He went to get another bowl of water. This fever was coming down.

Thor’s eyes were open. Barely, but the lids were cracked apart, lashes thick and dark against his white skin. Those eyes were sparling with fever, distant and glazed and  definitely not in the real world.

“Hey,” Steve smiled, wrapping a damp cloth around Thor’s neck. Bruce glanced over his shoulder and rose slowly from his chair, but hung back. “Hey, Thor.” He leaned over  Thor’s face so the demigod could see him without moving his head.

A jumble of syllables fell through Thor’s limp lips. There was no way to piece together what he was trying to say. It might not have even been a reply or a greeting to what Steve had said.

“Come on, look at me,” Steve put his hand against Thor’s cheek, trying to coax some eye contact, maybe even a coherent word or two. “Thor, look at me.”

Thor  _ did  _ look at him, if hardly for a second. “Ma...” The Asgardian hadn’t noticed where he was, nor that he’d changed, or even that he was hooked up to so much equipment.

“It’s Steve,” Steve corrected quietly. “Thor, it’s Steve. You’re on Earth.”

“Mamma,” the demigod shifted his hand across the sheets to grab for Steve’s shirt, the closest bit of his guardian that he could reach. Tears were gathering in his eyes.

The Captain grabbed  Thor’s hand and squeezed it in his. “We’re in the tower, Thor. Just me.”  _ I guess this is where that temperature starts to get  _ _ real _ _ dangerous. _

“Mum...  make’stop ....” he was shifting his body, trying to roll over and get closer to Steve. Steve pushed him down and easily overcame him.

“Just rest,” he ordered gently. “Just rest.”

“Don’t go...” Thor reached out with his other hand, trailing the IV line with him. “Please don’t go...”

“I won’t, I promised.”

“Mamma, please...” Thor’s eyes were dribbling profusely now, soaking his beard and the pillow. “Please, it hurts...”

Some hair was stuck in his mouth, and Steve thoughtlessly reached up to brush it away. “ Doin ’ what I can to fix it, I promise. Just hold my hand.”

“Please, mamma...” the demigod begged. “Mamma, come back. Don’t leave me...”

“I’m not leaving,” Steve promised more adamantly. “Thor, it’s alright. You’re  gonna be alright. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Here,” Bruce whispered, appearing on the other side of the bed with a syringe. “Let’s hope this helps.” He pushed all the fluid into the IV line, hovering to watch and wait.

Thor turned his head a little and spotted the doctor at his other side. “Loki...” he murmured, moving his hand toward the other man.

Bruce calmly took off his glasses and tucked them into his shirt, lifting Thor’s huge hand in both of his smaller ones and giving it a pat. He didn’t say a word, holding steady. Then he started to pull away, and the Asgardian gripped his hand with his.

“N-no, Loki... don’t go...”

“I’m just going to check a few things,” Bruce promised, prying his hand free with Steve’s help. He looked terribly guilty as he did so. “I’ll be  right back, Thor.”

“I’m right here,” Steve lowered the railing so he could get even closer. Careful of the clip on his finger, the captain wrapped himself around Thor’s forearm and held it to his chest. “Not goin’ anywhere.”

That was enough, for now. Bruce moved back and read off the vitals monitor. He went for the thermometer, capping it and pushing it into Thor’s ear. Before he  display could report a reading, Thor’s eyes rolled into his head, and he went rigid. 

“Seizure!” Bruse threw the thermometer back into the basket and ran. Steve wasn’t watching the doctor to see where he went, he was watching Thor’s huge body start to twitch and leap off the bed with thunder-god-sized spasms.

“What do we do!” Steve was already throwing himself across the Asgardian’s body to try and pin him down. A wild fist sailed out of nowhere and socked him in the jaw. It hurt, and it nearly threw him off, but he didn’t back down.

“Hold him!” Bruce yelled. “Hold him still, I’ll try to give him something!”

He should have left Thor in the ice bath for longer. Steve grabbed the loose IV port and threw it to the floor. Nimbly he leapt onto the bed and caught Thor’s wrists, pushing them into his chest while the vitals machine screamed in the background. Steve ignored it, using all of his incredible strength to subdue the demigod. He sat on his hips, tangled their legs, and pinned Thor’s arms crossed against his chest. He leaned his shoulder into Thor’s and pushed, trapping him against the bed. Bruce slid over, flattening the mattress a little before pulling the top off a syringe and pushing all the contents into Thor’s flexed shoulder.

Nothing happened at first, but Bruce wasn’t done. The doctor wasted no time uncapping two more syringes and flooding  Thor’s system with medication.

“JARVIS, get Tony down here right now! Tell him to bring ice,” Bruce called, leaving the used needles safely on the table tray and nudging it aside. 

Steve nearly protested, nearly argued that Thor hadn’t wanted to come down here in the first place. But that would be stupid, because this was  _ serious, _ and they needed all the help they could get. Everyone here was friends, anyway. Thor would understand.  _ I hope... _

He couldn’t have put much of an idea together anyway, locked in this wrestling match as he was. Thor was  _ strong, _ even weakened by this flu from Hell. He more than made up for it with involuntary spasms, more strength than he should have been able to summon flexing his muscles and trying to rip free of the soldier. Steve didn’t let him win, and didn’t worry too much about using his full strength. Thor could take it.

The bout died, and Thor was completely limp.

“Don’t let go,” Bruce breathed, bringing over a handful more syringes. “It might be the medication working, or it might just be a lull-”

Spoken too soon. Thor lurched straight back into it, and Steve tightened his grip. 

“Ice!” Tony called from the doorway, running straight in and throwing the bag to Bruce. The inventor didn’t stop to chat or  oggle , all business and no snark as he produced some towels.

“We have to get that fever down any way we can, otherwise anything else won’t matter,” Bruce breathed, tucking the towel by Thor’s thrashing head and dumping ice straight out of the bag. Steve felt the cold air hit his face instantly, and hoped,  _ prayed _ it would make a difference.

Tony put another towel on the other side. “ Evenin ’ Cap,” he dumped some ice there too and skidded around the bed to jam ice between Thor’s thighs

Steve adjusted his own legs a little, but there was no helping that some of the ice pressed into his knee. “Hey Tony.”

“Put the ice anywhere you can!” Bruce ordered, going for more syringes. Thor’s body lulled again, so the doctor took that opportunity to drain more meds into a limp arm. His window was just long enough, and the seizure started up again. Tony shoved ice wrapped in towels all up Thor’s sides, practically filling the bed with the stuff. Steve wrestled.

Whether it was the meds or the ice that made the difference, Steve didn’t care. Thor’s body finally stopped writhing under his, and all three Avengers gathered around the bed held still and waiting, frozen in place.

Bruce was the first to move. “Stay there for a sec, Steve,” he grabbed the thermometer.

“Anybody want to tell me what the hell is going on?” Tony demanded, taking in the whole scene. “Doing science experiments, and didn’t invite me?”

Steve shook his head, watching with anticipation as Bruce took a temperature. “Thor got sick.”

“How?” Tony demanded incredulously.

“Some kind of Asgardian flu...?” Steve shrugged, turning his watchful eye back to the demigod’s face. A trickle of blood was pushing out one nostril and soaking into his beard. “Tony, grab me some tissues,” he ordered urgently. All that jostling must have burst the weak blood vessel.

“His temp’s down to 111,” Bruce breathed. “You can let go, Steve. We’ll take a reading every ten minutes.”

Steve carefully untangled himself and hopped to the floor, taking the box Tony offered and wiping up the blood. It wasn’t gushing out, at least.

“Tony, can you help me with these tests?” Bruce pointed over to his equipment.

“Yeah, course,” the inventor agreed, glancing back at the two blondes. “He’s gonna be okay, right...?”

“Let’s hope so,” Bruce handed him a Starkpad. “See what you can do with those,” he tapped the screen and came back to the bed, offering Steve some supplies. “Will you get that drip started again...?”

“Sure thing,” Steve took the kit and went to wash his hands, glad to have a task. There wasn’t much he could do with the tests, but he could do this. He swabbed Thor’s arm and picked the best vein he could find, setting the line and taping it all down. With everything hooked up again, he set to fixing the sheets. He straightened out the gown and clipped the pulse oximeter back in place. Then he took his seat and rubbed his face. This certainly wasn’t what he’d been expecting to happen.  _ You’ll be okay though, right?  _ A cold wouldn’t kill or damage the God of Thunder... would it?  _ Maybe it’s not the cold I should be worried about... _

Thor had come to him for help, out of the other four people who lived here. He’d  _ trusted _ Steve to look after him.

_ In the end, I wasn’t able to give you everything you needed, _ Steve sighed and leaned in to raise the bed again. He rested his elbow on the bed and propped up his head, reaching out with his other hand to a sweep back strands of mussed hair and try to tame them again. Thor’s hair was perfectly wavy, cascading just past his shoulders. Steve used his other hand to help pull out all the knots. These days the prince usually kept little braids in it, but any he’d had previous to this ordeal had long been tugged out or ruffled loose.

It had been a while since Steve had braided anything, but his fingers remembered what to do. He separated a lock of hair away from Thor’s face and split it into threes, looping the strands together to make a neat braid. As he started a second, he wondered if the team had held Thor on a pedestal, a being above damage, above pain.

Well, he wasn’t. He wasn’t human, but that didn’t mean  _ nothing _ could hurt him,  _ nothing _ could strike him down. Thor was an alien, a warrior, the strongest and most resilient of any species Steve had ever met, but he could be hurt. He could be hurt by weapons, by sickness, and by people.  _ Someone _ had hurt him. Someone had bypassed the thick exterior of the God of Thunder and pierced him where he was soft and vulnerable. Maybe more than one someone.  _ We don’t know you at all, and yet you’ve given us so much. _

Who was Steve to offer this comfort? The Captain stroked his hand across Thor’s sweltering forehead, grabbing a cloth to wipe away the sweat. He rubbed the last traces of blood from his bearded cheek, from the bristle above his top lip. The ice was helping, though: Steve took another temperature, and was glad to find it was descended another whole degree. They weren’t home free yet, but they were winning.


	5. Chapter 5

After two hours, Thor leveled out at 109, where his fever refused to lower at a rate faster than a snail’s Sunday stroll. Steve cleaned up the ice and fetched a dry blanket, then went to see how the two geniuses were doing.

“The pathogen is harmless to humans, fortunately,” Bruce concluded. “It resembles the common flu enough that we might try a tweaked version of an antibiotic. Thor’s blood is actually very similar to ours, it just contains more white blood cells, and many common genes to yours, Steve.”

“Mine...?” Oh, the serum. Thor was capable of regenerating even faster than the Captain, so it made sense that he had similar barriers in place.

“His metabolism is just a bit faster than yours, but his nutritive intake requirements are a lot higher given the amount of calories he burns with his superior muscles,” Bruce continued. “If we give him an elevated dose of medicine, it should help him fight off the symptoms.”

“And will he recover...?” Steve asked. “I mean... it won’t damage him will it?” A shiver passed through his spine at the thought.

“I don’t think so,” Bruce agreed, “but I’ll have to run some more tests. We’ll wait until he’s a bit better. How’s he doing?” Both he and Tony peered over at the bed.

“Asleep,” Steve shrugged. “Hasn’t even twitched. But he’s down to one-o-nine.”

“Good, that’s good,” Bruce nodded with relief. “Keep checking it.”

Steve nodded affirmatively, and resumed his post at the bedside, picking up his book in the hopes of distracting himself for a little while. This was torture.

Thor had promised to be honest after this, when he was feeling better.  _ What do you need to be honest about? Why you didn’t want me to take you to  _ _ Asgard _ _? What are you afraid of? _ Steve found his thoughts drifting and eventually had to put down his book. It wasn’t enough to claim his thoughts today. He’d offered to be honest too, though he wasn’t sure what about. Everything, possibly.  _ I’ll tell him about the photo, at least.  _ Thor’s delirious calls for his absent family made Steve realize he had probably spoken too soon: maybe the others  _ would _ understand his pain. Some of it, at least. He had no idea.  _ Because I never asked. _

What if Thor had been feeling lonely too, suffering alone because he felt the others wouldn’t understand?  _ I’ve made a grave mistake.  _ And what did it matter if nobody understood exactly? Nobody ever would. No two people walked the same path, nor were changed in the same way by the journey. But everyone in their little team would understand about loss and sacrifice. Nobody had left everyone they knew in a different century, but they had all lost people dear to them.

\--

“Okay, this should help,” Bruce approached the bed with a syringe in his hand and Tony on his heels. “It’s an antibiotic.”

“With a few enhancements,” Tony smirked.

Steve watched with anticipation as the doctor pushed the contents of his syringe into the IV bag. It clouded the saline and mixed with the turbulence until it faded clear again. There was no way it would have immediate effect, but all three men turned their gazes to the unconscious demigod, then up to the vitals machine.

“We’ll keep looking,” Bruce nodded, and turned away. “Let’s hope it works.”

“I’ll order some food,” Tony piped up. “Who’s hungry?”

They all were, so the inventor ordered pizza, making sure there would be plenty left-over in case Thor woke up and wanted some. It could always go in the fridge. They all gathered around the bed with a couple of open boxes, eating in silence while JARVIS ran tests in the background and the oxygen tank hissed every few seconds. Along with the steady beeping of the monitor and the rattle of congested breathing, their meal was played to by a veritable symphony.

“Looks like we’ll have to keep a closer eye on our god of thunder,” Tony snorted, leaning back in his chair. He looked slightly haunted as he reclined to eat. The other two nodded solemnly.

Beside them, Thor groaned and shifted, and the monitor beeped a little faster. Steve put down his pizza and leapt to his feet, the other two on his tail but hanging back out of the way to watch. 

Steve watched intently as Thor’s head lolled to the side and his eyelids fluttered apart, ever blue and weary. “ S’food ?” he mumbled, and Steve grinned like a moron. He could hear the other two shuffling with the boxes.

“Yeah, we got pizza,” Steve agreed. “How you feelin’?”

“ S’eve ...” Thor fumbled his hand in the soldier’s direction, disturbing the IV line, which he didn’t notice was taped to his arm.

“Yup, you with me this time?” Steve offered his hand, sliding it under Thor’s and squeezing, waiting for another seizure, for everything to slip away again –

“Food?” Thor’s eyebrows jerked upward with hopefulness as he once again asked. His eyes roamed the surroundings, searching for the pizza filling the air with the smell of cheese and meat.

“Something to drink first,” Steve reasoned, and Tony opened a tin of ginger ale beside him, pouring it into a cup. The soldier took it and pressed the paper rim to Thor’s lips. He allowed the prince to drink a few sips before pulling back. “Feelin’ better?” he tried again.

Thor squinted around the room with foggy, confused eyes, but didn’t say anything pertaining to his relocation, or his extra company. He just licked dry lips and tried to move a little under the sheet. “Cold,” he murmured.

“I’ll get you a warmer blanket when that fever is down,” Steve promised, pushing the cool cloth into his friend’s forehead.  _ He’s probably just exhausted. You had a long day. _

They weren’t going to get much out of their friend for a while it would seem, so Bruce handed Steve an extra plate of pizza and nudged Tony off to their work to give the two some space. Steve sat on the edge of the bed with the plate, beyond relieved that despite his drowsiness, Thor was awake and eating. Eating slowly, but getting through the two slices fed to him. It was kind of mesmerizing, just sitting here watching Thor chew like a drugged sloth, completely oblivious to his situation.

On the last bite, Steve was about to offer another piece, but the demigod was already shutting his eyes and starting to snore. He was well and truly asleep now.  _ You’ll be okay. _

All that food, fluids, and medicine had turned the tides. Thor’s heart wasn’t beating so frantically, and when Bruce checked with the stethoscope, he found the congestion was clearing up. Watching those readings improve made Steve feel comfortable enough to put his head on the mattress and fall asleep.

\--

Someone was shaking him awake. Steve opened his eyes to the dimness of the lab. It had to be two or three in the morning. The shaking continued.

The bed was rattling beneath his folded arms. Steve sat up and rubbed his eyes, adjusting to the darkness. A blanket fell off his shoulders, and Tony and Bruce were gone. To bed, he hoped. Their chairs were empty, a couple of machines whirring away while JARVIS did some tests on his own.

The only other person here with him was Thor. But the demigod hadn’t roused him: the Asgardian’s body was trembling hard enough to disturb the bed. He was curled on his side to face the soldier, tangled in blankets and tubes. 

“Thor...?” Steve pushed his hand under the blanket to try and free an arm and straighten the IV. Another nightmare? It would appear so. Steve fought away a hand and brushed away some hair so he could brush his knuckles along Thor’s cheek. The skin was damp with tears, but not as fiercely hot as before. The fever hadn’t climbed any higher. “Thor, wake up,” he gave the demigod a gentle shake. 

A hand shot out from under the blanket and clamped around his wrist, yanking the soldier closer. Steve barely restrained a yelp as his arm was suddenly taken hostage. Thor had wrapped both arms around the Captain’s forearm now, and was hugging it to his chest in a trembling but powerful grip.

“Okay, come on,” Steve grunted, trying to pull free while prying at Thor’s fingers. “Come on, wake up... Thor, let go.”

Thor was asleep, and showed no signs of letting go. But Steve paused his struggling when he realized the demigod was falling still, his breathing evening out.

He couldn’t pull away now. Steve sighed and pushed off his shoes with his feet. There was no way he could stay comfortable in his chair with his arm trapped like this. “Okay, you win,” he whispered, draping the IV line over his head so he could crawl safely under it. He nestled himself behind Thor with his trapped limb wrapped around the demigod. It was a tight fit, two men their size spooning in this small hospital bed. Steve hoped Thor wouldn’t mind. He seemed not to, given that he had completely settled and was soundly, peacefully sleeping.

This was actually quite nice. He smiled and glanced up at the vitals display casting them in a dim glow. The light brushed the outline of Thor’s cheek, from Steve’s vantage.

“You’ll be alright,” he sighed, pulling Thor more tightly against him in a hug.  _ We’ll all be alright.  _ One more shift to get comfortable, and he shut his eyes to get a few more hours for himself.

\--

Steve awoke to find his arm freed from its prison, but still wrapped around Thor’s chest. The demigod had slightly turned into him, deeply asleep and breathing through his nose. One hand lay on the pillow by his head, the fingers curled inward. There was a healthy flush blossoming in his cheeks, though it still had to contend with the pallor and dark circles wrapped around his shut eyes. Steve pushed onto his elbow and clamped his hand over the prince’s forehead, pleased to find it was a little cooler than last night.

He was about to delicately extract himself, but Thor’s forehead creased and his eyelids trembled, then peeled apart. The demigod groaned low in his throat and shifted in bed, struggling to turn himself over so he could get a better look at who he was cuddled up with. “Steve?” His voice was weak and hoarse, but no longer fogged by delirium.

“Hey,” Steve smiled, unable to hide that he was a little embarrassed to be caught here. He pulled his arm free and sat up a bit higher. “Sorry... you  kinda trapped my arm.”

“Oh... sorry,” Thor watched Steve move with such  disappointment that the Captain couldn’t bring himself to actually leave the bed.

“No, no it’s okay,” Steve promised with a warm smile. “Sleep okay?”

Thor thought about it for a second before nodding. His eyes fell to his face, and he reached up to tug on the tubing tucked under his nose. He noticed the wires feeding through the collar of his gown, the garment itself, the BP cuff on his arm, and the IV in the other. “What...”

“You had a rough night,” Steve explained apologetically. “I had to get help. Dr. Banner made you some medicine and gave you some fluids. I hope that’s okay... you kind of passed out on me. But you’ll be okay. You woke up and had some pizza yesterday evening.”

“Oh...” Thor tipped his head a little. “I... don’t remember.”

“You were pretty out of it,” Steve explained, reluctantly crawling out of bed to switch off the oxygen. The machine was reading 95-percent. “Here,” he pulled the tubing off Thor’s ears and disposed of it. “ Feelin ’ any better?”

“Some,” Thor agreed distantly. He winced and rubbed his eyes, trying to curl up under the thin blanket.

“You should lie flat,” Steve suggested. “Here, I’ll check your temperature and get you another blanket.”

The demigod didn’t argue, accepting the help to turn onto his back and straighten out. Steve pushed the probe into his ear and read the display. “Hey, one-o-eight. It’s coming down. The worst is over.” He gave a smile which was half-heartedly returned. Thor didn’t seem thrilled.

Steve grabbed another couple of blankets and spread them across Thor’s body, tucking them in over his shoulders and sticking his arm on top. The IV drip was almost empty, so he clamped the line and started to peel off the tape. Thor winced as the adhesive tugged on his hair, and the Captain murmured a ‘sorry’. He finally freed the port and slid it out, pushing his thumb into the hole for a second or two. When he pulled away, the bleeding had already stopped.

“You look a lot better,” Steve tried. “I was really worried.”

“I apologize.”

“Don’t be sorry,” the Captain waved his hand, taking a seat. “Don’t be. Not your fault. I’m sorry for taking you here when you didn’t want to.”

“No, this is fine,” Thor assured, and now he did offer a smile, though it was weak and lingering with sadness underneath. “I underestimated the necessity. Thank you. For taking care of me.”

“Any one of us would have,” Steve replied confidently.

“I didn’t ask them,” Thor shut his eyes, turning his head and letting it sink into the pillows. “I asked you.  So thank you.”

Steve smiled softly. “You’re welcome.”

They were part way through a light breakfast of toast, scrambled eggs, and lemon-ginger tea when Bruce reappeared in the doorway, Tony on his heels. The doctor paused when he noticed the demigod was awake and eating.

“Thor,” he approached, fumbling for his stethoscope. Tony hurried over too, hovering by the bed next to Steve. Bruce nudged the IV pole out of the way, glancing up at the vitals machine. “I just want to listen to your chest, if that’s okay...”

Thor mumbled his agreement and pushed down the blankets so Steve could help him get his gown open. Bruce leaned in with the stethoscope, and the demigod shivered as the cold probe pushed into his warm skin.

“All clear,” the doctor concluded. “Your lungs sound clean. Heart’s a bit fast still, but better. I’ll take another blood sample, if that’s alright, but otherwise you can go. Just... stay in bed. Take another couple of days’ rest.”

“You can stay with me,” Steve quickly added with a nod.  _ You’re not leaving my sight just yet. _ Thor brightened a little at that.

Bruce took his blood and went over to his work bench to give them some space. Tony gave his good wishes and followed, minding his own business for once and staying relatively quiet. Breakfast was quickly finished.

“Well, shall we go?” Steve offered with a cheerful smile, holding out the spare clothes he’d brought. “You should change.”

Thor was quiet as the Captain folded the blankets off his legs and helped him sit on the edge of the bed. The demigod shed the gown and Steve pulled off all the electrodes and wires, turning to shut off the machine so his friend could dress. He deliberated over winding the cables, spending several minutes with the task. Finally he turned, and Thor was pushing himself off the edge of the bed.

“Whoa, easy there,” Steve launched forward, propping himself under his friend before the demigod could drop his weight onto his feet. He looked pale and unstable, swaying and wincing.

They hung there for a moment or two in silence, Steve smoothing out the prince’s shirt and making sure he wouldn’t collapse. It was no doubt the Asgardian was so exhausted, given what his body had endured the last twenty-four hours. Steve didn’t say a word as he carefully shouldered his friend’s weight and led him back to the elevator, back to his room, and back to bed. Thor shuffled along beside him, quiet and subdued, his eyes distant and his expression unusually melancholic. It felt somewhat like a dream, and maybe that was how Thor felt as well, given how alien many of these sensations had to be. The things his body was doing to him were unfamiliar.

“You might be sore for a while,” Steve offered, desperate to break the silence. He wasn’t a rambler, but he felt the urge just to talk.  So he did, not thinking too much about what came out of his mouth, only that he needed to get that frown off Thor’s face pronto, spark some light in his eyes. “Just a couple more days of rest and you’ll feel better. You’re coming out of it now.”

The demigod didn’t say a word, shivering with chills under his borrowed t-shirt. He froze in the doorway to the bedroom as Steve led him in, and they both stared at the rumpled sheets and blood stains splattered over everything.

“It’s okay, just sit at the table for a minute,” Steve turned him around and guided him to the kitchen. “I’ll get the sheets changed.”

Thor nodded mutely, easing into the chair when it was pulled out for him and leaning his elbow on the table. His other arm snaked around his bruised chest, and his eyes drifted out of focus immediately. Steve frowned and left reluctantly, racing into his bedroom to change the sheets as fast as possible. He was going to have to ask Tony to call the cleaners. Chemicals could achieve miracles these days, could render purity back to even the most badly stained whites. Steve always tried to be careful, but occasionally he got a drop of blood on the sheets or his clothes. He tried to scrub out what he could himself, but this was  _ a lot _ of blood. The stains were everywhere. It was rather gruesome. Hard to imagine that had all come out of Thor’s nose.

The sheets were changed in no time, and though the carpet would have to wait, the room no longer looked like a murder scene. Steve piled up the pillows and folded back the duvet, ducking back out to gather his charge.

For a moment it had seemed as though Thor was really getting better, perking up, smiling some. But he was back to hunched over, his eyes just as grey as they had been a few hours ago. He looked like a man who had been tormented so long that the ghosts no longer startled him, like he had fought them off in futility and finally given up just for a moment’s rest within the pain. Steve wondered how long Thor had been feeling like that inside, beneath the flawless marble layer of confident, nonchalant cheerfulness. Steve had always felt that Thor was the type to wear his heart on his sleeve, but it would seem their demigod was a much better liar than any of them gave him credit for. Maybe even better than Natasha.

Thor’s imbalance seemed more born of disconnect rather than lack of strength, though that certainly played a part. His grip was weak, and he visible lightened a shade every time he stood up. That blood pressure must have plummeted again. And his shaking was still clinging, wracking his frame with chills. The demigod obediently got to his feet at Steve’s direction and slumped along with his aid to the bed. He seemed all too happy to crawl awkwardly onto the mattress, clutching for the covers as they were pulled up over him, though the shivering didn’t ease up much.

“I’ll get you another blanket,” Steve offered quietly, dragging a second duvet from the closet without hesitation and draping it over the first.  _ I won’t bake him, will I?  _ He’d just have to keep watching that fever, though that fight appeared to have been won, even if the elevated temperature was still climbing to normal levels (whatever ‘normal levels’ were).

He expected Thor to shut his eyes and go to sleep, but the demigod was still lying there when Steve returned with his books and glass of water. His eyes were open, staring blankly ahead. Steve put down what he was holding and shifted his chair closer, staring at his feet for a moment. This really wasn’t his place to pry, because Thor had been out of his mind with fever, too sick to realize who he was talking to, or what depths of his heart he was offering a window into.

_ I failed him before. We all did. Now’s the time to make up for it. I need to show him I trust him, and that he can trust me. He came to me for a reason. Time to prove he was right.  _ Steve just didn’t know where to start. He glanced at the picture on the lampstand and reached for it. The movement snapped Thor out of his haze, and the demigod watched him inspect the old photograph.

“My family,” Steve smiled, turning the frame to show his friend, pointing at the people in it. “... and that’s Bucky. He was my best friend... More than that, my brother. He was all I had when Mom died. Got me through the best and worst times of my life when he probably should have abandoned me, for all the trouble I caused. He gave me more than I could ever pay him back for. I owe him my life.”

Bucky really  _ had _ saved his life, had given him the extra burst of strength and willpower to tip to the right side of the wire between life and death. Bucky had been his guiding light, something to wake up every morning to even when his whole body ached and nothing worked right.

“When he fell off that train...” Steve swallowed, turning to look at the photo again. “When he fell, I was too slow to save him. I was ready to die. I really thought that plane crash would kill me. I didn’t look as hard as I could have for an alternative solution. I didn’t even try to get out. Then when I woke up... I didn’t think anything else could be taken from me. It didn’t seem fair. My friends, my world, the people who really knew me.”

Those people who had known him before the serum, had seen him as a person before science had made him into a masterpiece, were gone. Everyone else would only ever know the after, the legend history had inked him as.

Steve put down the photo. He put it carefully on the lampstand and adjusted it, trying not to think too hard about how happy he looked. It was one of the few fragments of his old self he had left. “I... it’s not that I don’t trust you guys,” he sighed. “I don’t even have a good excuse for not being more honest... I’m just... scared. I guess.” Scared of what? Maybe a therapy session would unwind those knots and weave them into coherent ideas, but right now they felt too daunting to tackle, the end of the thread lost in the jumble. Where did he start? He turned his gaze back to the demigod, who was watching him with eyes alert and full of concern and anticipation. Thor was listening,  _ wanted _ to listen. Wanted to  _ know.  _ Steve sighed and found a small smile. “I let a friend fall once. I guess I’m afraid of not being enough again. That’s no way to live a life... it’s just hard to make the leap from nothing to something.”

Thor’s hand appeared from beneath the mounded blankets, fingers looping around Steve’s and squeezing. “You are our friend, Steven. Whatever you choose to do, we will respect it. Though I cannot speak for the others, I’m certain they would all have time for whatever you wish to share. Myself included.”

Knowing it and hearing it were two very different things. Steve had  _ known _ his friend would listen if he needed them to, but hearing Thor confirm it verbally gave weight to that. It also made him realized that though this was the first time he’d sat down and had a serious talk about any of this with anyone, it wasn’t the first time Thor had been there for him. The prince had always been there, just  _ there, _ a quiet, steadfast presence at his side. He’d given company, a buffer amidst group events, something familiar and protective. Thor had always been there, at his side, the silent guardian. And he hadn’t really noticed. Not until Bruce had pointed it out, not until now when it was all sinking in.

“Thanks,” he whispered, unsure of what to say other than that. “Thank you, Thor.” He squeezed the hand in his grip, feeling his smile grow a little.

“You have and would do the same,” Thor smiled in return, and it too was warm. “You’ve been more than enough. This has been bearable with your company.”

“ Of course I would,” Steve assured. “Of course. The circumstances suck, but I liked spending time with you.”

“I can provide much better companionship on better days,” Thor promised, a glimmer of his usual  self shining through. He yawned, eyelids sliding closed. “Promise...”

“Are you offering to hang out?” Steve raised his eyebrow, a little taken aback though he shouldn’t be, given the direction of their conversation.

Thor opened one mildly-amused eye. “If you’ve not grown tired of me.”

“I’d hardly call this ‘hanging out’,” Steve gently corrected. “Go to sleep. We can talk more about this in the morning.  Of course we can hang out.”

That was enough. The demigod shut his eye with a deep sigh, and allowed his weary body to fall back asleep. Steve gently pushed the hand back under the covers and tucked his friend in. He’d gotten a smile out of him, at least. Will-power wasn’t a cure-all, but it could certainly help shake off the symptoms. If he couldn’t pay Bucky back directly, then the least he could do was pay it forward and do his best to help Thor keep his spirit in-tact.  _ We can talk more when you wake up. _

Unwilling to leave in case the demigod suffered another nightmare, Steve stayed at his bedside. He had nowhere to be, and would remain the silent guardian while it was his turn, his opportunity.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading everyone! As always, thank you for your feedback, and I always look forward to hearing your thoughts/ideas! Stay tuned for the next story! I already have the plot roughed out B)  
> Of course, I am always up for suggestions if there's anything you want to see. I keep a list.
> 
> Thanks again! Enjoy.

The sickness clung on like a leach. It just didn’t want to shake. The symptoms themselves were no longer dangerous, but they were enough to keep the demigod trapped in bed, trying desperately to sleep away this curse locking his joints and squeezing his chest.

Steve tried everything. He tried combinations of herbs and remedies. He tried over-the-counter medications. He even asked Thor if Bruce could come back up to take a look at him, and the doctor did the best analysis that he could. He returned what his previous blood tests had given, and offered to take some more.

“The virus isn’t progressing,” Bruce explained quietly to Steve in the bedroom, Thor listening from where he was wrapped tightly in blankets, turned on his side to face them. “His immune system should be able to get rid of it, but it doesn’t seem to be doing anything about it. It’s... inert. Doing the bare minimum to hold its own. That’s the best way I can explain it.”

“Can you give him anything?” Steve asked, borderline desperate. Maybe they just needed to give this some more time...  _ But nothing’s getting better.  _ Just because this wasn’t life-threatening didn’t mean it wasn’t serious, or unpleasant. Despite his earlier victory, it was becoming progressively more difficult to raise the prince’s spirits.

“I’ve tried everything I can think of,” Bruce shrugged, glancing apologetically at Thor’s dull eyes staring through him. “I don’t think I can cure it. I’ll keep  looking, of course, and Tony is helping. But you really might have to take him back to Asgard. He needs help we can’t give him.”

Steve swallowed and nodded, thanking the doctor for his help and watching him go. He turned back to the bedroom and quietly took up his seat again. It had been a long forty-eight hours since the seizures. Longer for Thor, probably. “I’m sorry...” he sighed. He knew he’d done everything he could, but that little voice in the back of his head begged to differ. It seemed to have gotten stronger and more adamant since the serum. “I’m sorry, Thor. I know you don’t want to go back there. I promised I wouldn’t take you there, but this isn’t getting any better-”

That same fear had returned in Thor’s eyes, but for once there was determination there. Just a little, but there was some. The demigod squeezed the pillow his arm was wrapped around. He sat up a little, pushed his face out of the pillows and shrugged the duvets away from his cheek. “Steve, please... just one more day...”

Steve bit his lip. He’d delayed getting help before, and Thor had passed out on him. Maybe those seizures could have been prevented, and the demigod wouldn’t be so weak.  _ He shouldn’t be this weak so long after those... He hasn’t improved at all.  _

All the more reason to take Thor to Asgard. But one more day, he could give. “Okay,” he nodded. “One more. If you eat something.”

Thor agreed almost instantly, struggling to turn on his back and sit up. Steve helped him without hesitation. He went to make some buttered toast, and was back in a flash.

“Tony ordered that jam you like,” Steve smiled, holding out the plate. The toast glimmered in the light, smeared with glossy pink spread. “He said there’s a box in the common kitchen for you. Nobody’s touched it.”

Thor nodded in reply, eating his toast as if he barely noticed the taste of it in his mouth. Thor  _ loved _ buttered toast with jam. He loved to eat in general, but this was something Steve often caught him eating. It felt like a sign of the apocalypse that now he wasn’t at least somewhat enjoying it.

One more day. Steve doubted more and more that these next twenty-four hours would contain the turning point as he watched Thor finish his toast and reach out with a fearful hand, as if something had snapped and he was about to tumble away somewhere nightmarish.

“S-Steve... stay with me?” his fever was hovering safely at one-o-eight, but the demigod looked like he was borderline delirious all of a sudden, locking onto Steve’s wrist as if it was the only thing keeping him from sliding into darkness. “P-please.”

“Yeah, of course, just let me get the light,” Steve pried his arm free, and a bolt of fear ripped up his back as he heard Thor whimper behind him. He shut off the light and made used of his long legs, tearing up the distance between them and sliding straight into the bed. He got under the covers and didn’t waste any time hugging Thor close to his body. “Come here. It’s alright. You’re  gonna be alright.” How many times had he said that? He believed it no less; it was the means by which they reached that result that were becoming more and more distant.

Thor was a big guy, bigger than Steve, but he curled up so that he could be dragged into the Captain’s chest. His skin was freezing despite the blankets piled on him, and he was still shaking.

“Shh,” Steve urged, feeling tears prick his eyes, both in sympathy and distress for not knowing what was  _ wrong, _ nor how to make it better. “Shh. Go to sleep. Even if you need to go back to Asgard, I’ll come. I won’t leave you. I promised you I would be right here no matter what. Till the end of the line.”

He hadn’t expected that to come out of him, that sacred phrase. Thor couldn’t possibly understand its weight, but maybe he responded to the sincerity and pain of its deliverance when he paused his shaking and went still. Steve hugged tighter, and didn’t let go. He would  _ never  _ let go.

\--

When he woke up, Thor was gone. The space beside him was empty. Steve’s eyes flew open, and he threw off the duvets. They’d been tucked around him, so it took a bit of wrestling. Perplexed and nervous, Steve rolled off the mattress and ran.

He checked the bathroom – empty. The kitchen, too. And the living-room. Had something happened? Had Thor lapsed and JARVIS called for help? Had his fever claimed his sanity and run him off in chase of mirages? Had Asgard taken him away, a watchful eye deeming their prince too far beyond the aid of Midgardian mortals?

“Thor!” Steve called. “Thor, where are-”

There he was, on the balcony. It was dawn, a warm morning sun glowing across the Asgardian’s shoulders. Those shoulders, broad and perfect and capable of supporting entire buildings upon them, were still trembling. Steve skidded as he moved, snagging the nearest hoodie he could find and sliding for the balcony door.

“Thor,” he called softly, voice quivering with worry, afraid of what awaited him-

But Thor turned, glancing over his shoulder, and his eyes were clear. He was  _ here. _ Still pale and tinted with grey, leaning heavily on the railing for support, but up and lucid. He smiled with significant guilt. “Steve,” he rasped. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s- it’s okay,” Steve swallowed, hurrying over and holding out the hoodie. Thor leaned gratefully toward the offering, and the Captain tugged it over his head. “What are you doing out here? You should be in bed,” he gently scolded.

Thor put his arms through the sleeves of the warm garment, tucking some hair behind his ear. It needed a brush. He rested against the railing again and stared down at the city. It was already bustling, knowing no night nor day. Someone always had to get to work. “I needed to get on my feet,” he explained calmly. Before Steve could interject that what he needed was  _ rest, _ the demigod continued. “I... Sometimes wallowing only makes the problem worse. We can’t wait out all our problems. Time doesn’t heal everything. Sometimes actions are needed.”

Steve slid up to the railing and leaned against it, dangling his hands over the edge. Thor’s hand was so close, close enough that he could have looped their pinkies and dragged it closer. When he looked up, the prince’s eyes were fixed firmly on the horizon. A moment more of looking, though, and Steve saw behind the determination a crack of that same fear. So the Captain leaned closer, pushed their shoulders together in a show of support that had been given silently to him many times before.

Thor leaned into the touch, losing that little bit of strength he’d managed to stir up, the strength no longer needed to hold himself so stiffly to stay upright. “Steven... I have not been honest with you.”

“Thor-”

“I am not ill with a virus, or a  bacteria , or whatever else Banner may call it,” Thor’s eyes were locked purposefully on his. “I thought it may be, and I wanted to believe that was all it was. But these last couple of days have only confirmed my suspicions, and I need to tell you this.”

“O-okay,” Steve agreed. “Of course.”

The prince  swallowed, his face sheet white. He looked like he might collapse, and was gripping the railing so tightly it was starting to creak under his strength. Had he been well, it would have crumpled by now. “I cannot return to  Asgard because there is too much pain there. I can’t sleep through a night without... disturbing others.”

“Thor, why...”

“Mother is dead. And so is Loki.” The confession came quietly, so quietly that a normal human with normal ears might have missed it. Steve didn’t. He heard it loud and clear.

Steve couldn’t have said everything that needed saying with his mouth. He closed the gap between them, though small, and yanked Thor into his arms. Then he just held strong. A demigod melted into him, arms hugging weakly back, but willing just as they had been for their past shared hugs. “I’m sorry,” Steve whispered, squeezing tightly and gently swaying back and forth. “I’m so sorry.”

“I hear her,” Thor shuddered, his strong voice cracking. “I hear her, Steve. Loki too. I dream of them every time I close my eyes. Sometimes it’s like they’re real, then I wake up and remember they’re gone.” Gone forever, poof, just like that, leaving a hole that could never be filled by another person.

“Who else knows?” Steve breathed, not daring to let go.

“Just you,” Thor sniffed. “I tried to forget... I  thought that maybe if I did, it may ease the pain. But it has only weakened me further and further, until...”

“Until your body couldn’t take it anymore,” Steve whispered. He knew the mind and body were connected somewhat, but this was another level. Thor’s body had nearly killed itself. “Thor...”

“It hurts, Steve, it hurts so badly and it won’t go away.” Dampness soaked into the Captain shirt, and he squeezed even harder, rubbing his hand up and down Thor’s back as the demigod’s voice crumbled.

Steve just held. He pushed their ears together, leaning his head in close and continuing to rub in gently sweeps. “When?” he whispered.

“A couple of months ago,” Thor swallowed roughly. “The attack, in Greenwich.”

Steve remembered that from the news, vaguely. “I’m sorry,” he said again.

“Thank you,” Thor sighed.

It wouldn’t bring them back. Nothing would bring them back. ‘Sorry’ wouldn’t resurrect Sarah Rogers, or reverse Bucky’s fall off the train. It wouldn’t undo the Winter Soldier, either. And it certainly wouldn’t give Thor back his mother and brother. But it was something. And Steve really meant it. The events that had taken Thor’s loved ones were out of his control, but he  _ meant _ his apology. Not for actions impossible for him to perform, but because losing someone hurt.

“I had to tell you,” Thor’s grip loosened, and he was hanging off Steve now. “You carried me over the worst, but I needed to push through the last of it on my own. I knew it. But I was... scared.”

“That’s okay,” Steve assured. “It’s okay to be scared.” It was. He needed to remind himself of that. It  _ was _ okay to be scared, and not of anything specific. Emotions rarely made sense, nor did they need to.

“I should have told you much sooner,” Thor heaved.

“You needed to do it in your own time,” Steve shook his head, “and you did damn well.”

“I should have told you before this happened,” the demigod refused. “Long before. I trust you. I should not have tried to tackle this alone.”

“It’s okay,” Steve reassured. “None of us are role models for that.”

“But you have given me strength,” Thor’s head shook. “And for that I am grateful.” He sniffed and wiped his nose on his hand. Then he wrapped Steve in a hug of his own, a little larger all of a sudden as he pulled the Captain into his chest. He felt a bit steadier, too. “Thank you.”

“Any time,” Steve smiled. “Really.”

Thor pulled back, and when he did, there was a smile on his lips and slight flush in his damp cheeks. It didn’t survive long before the pallor claimed it again, though, and he leaned heavily against the railing.

“Back to bed,” Steve breathed, holding out his arm. “Come on. You’re still pretty sick.”

This was the turning point, though. The real one. Both of them felt it as they slowly made their way back to the bedroom. Letting go of bottled emotions wouldn’t zap the flu away, but Thor certainly looked a little more alive. He sat up on the pillows, not shaking so badly anymore. Steve brought him more toast, and when it was eaten with some vigor, he went to make something else to add to it.

They spent the day in brightness. They both agreed that Thor should move around a bit, and made their way to the living room. Curled up on the sofa together, they watched movies and played as many card games as Steve could remember (which was quite a few, thanks to the serum). And they  _ ate.  _ A few days of running around with his mind solely on Thor had helped Steve forget a meal or two.  Therefore when JARVIS alerted them that the team was ordering dinner, Steve realized how hungry he was. For a moment he wondered if the demigod would refuse the offer to go hang out with their other friends, but he brightened at the idea.  _ Maybe he’s just as lonely as I am. _

They went up to the common area, and though wrapped in a hoodie and blanket, Thor joined in. Natasha and Clint were back from their missions, there to greet their friend alongside a relieved-looking Tony and Bruce. Vague details were given, that their resident thunder god had been under the weather but was pulling out of it, and that was all the others needed to know right this instant. Now wasn’t the time for sharing anyway. It was the time to eat and laugh and enjoy good company.

Tony kept them full while they played games and chatted and generally enjoyed themselves. Thor was quieter, pressed tightly up against Steve’s side for support as the dregs of his flu wreaked the last of its havoc. The team brought them food, made sure there was always something to eat and drink within reach so neither of them had to get up. Nobody said a word on the issue, but everyone was there, woven together in a silent support structure, holding each other above water. It was nice. It was safe.

Steve nearly jumped when Thor’s head dropped onto his shoulder out of nowhere. The pressure on his side had been growing steadily over the last hour, but the demigod had truly given in now, and was asleep. Natasha quietly reached over to take back the cards she’d dealt the demigod, shuffling them into the deck. They played one more quiet game, continually glancing over at their peacefully-slumbering friend. 

Tony and Bruce were next, worn out from their constant hard work trying to cure Thor’s magic flu. Tired from their own recent missions, the spies weren’t far behind. Everyone was here, asleep. Steve watched them for a minute or two, moonlight glowing off their deeply-breathing bodies. He smiled and turned, shoving throw pillows underneath his back. He lay down, and brought Thor with him, pulling the demigod into his chest protectively. This was nice. This was home.

And he was going to make it  _ his _ home, Thor’s home too. In any way he could. If  Asgard was no longer safe, then Steve would make damn sure that Earth would be.

\--

It took another day and a half for Thor to shake off the last of his symptoms. He slept a lot, and Steve didn’t leave his side. The coughing subsided, and the fever came back down to one-o-five, where it stayed. Given that Thor appeared almost normal now, that’s what the Captain presumed to be his baseline.  _ Maybe we ought to take some readings when this has blown over, just in case. _

Still a bit shaky and off-balance, but looking like his old self, Thor was released. It was unofficial, unspoken, because Steve couldn’t bear to tell the prince that he was free to go. Free to leave this room and return to his own. The company had been nice.

_ Almost _ released. Steve wasn’t done yet. That morning, when Thor emerged from the shower, dressed, the Captain was there, handing over a jacket and ball cap with a smile. “Come on,” he smiled.

“Where are we going?” Thor took the items given to him, tying his hair at the base of his neck and sliding the cap over top. The jacket barely fit him, doing nothing to hide how huge he was. There was a pleased blush in his cheeks.

“Out,” Steve explained, pulling on his own hat and jacket. “Just you and me, before we go back to normal.”

He didn’t want things to go back to normal. He wanted Thor to get better, but he didn’t want isolation. He knew that work would rip them out of this lull, end this precious time spent together, just the two of them. Steve didn’t want it to end.

“Come on,” he found himself reaching for Thor’s hand, taking it without thinking and pulling his friend along. He took him outside, down to where he parked his motorcycle, and slid on. “Get on,” he gestured the seat behind him. Thor padded forward curiously, easily swinging his leg over and sitting. Without prompting he wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist, and hung on.

Whatever happened after this didn’t matter. They were going to make the most of today, Steve would make sure of it. He turned the key, and the engine rumbled to life. They were off, Thor clung to his back trustingly.

Old streets he used to know were nothing like he remembered. Maybe that was a good thing. This was a new world, and sometimes wiping away the old one made it easier to move on. Remembering instead of dwelling. Those lines were usually blurred, but today he was determined just to remember. He took Thor on a tour of the city first, drove him up to Brooklyn and showed him the streets where he grew up, pointed out alleyways where he’d been beaten up, fondly remembering days where every opponent was too big for him, but he hadn’t cared. 

Then it was lunch time. They parked on the curb, and Steve led the way to a pizza place he’d heard Tony claim was the best. He remembered his favorite places to eat, but they weren’t around anymore, weren’t the same. It was time to embrace what was new, and make it his.

Thor was happy. He probably would have eaten anything given to him and loved it. Steve bought them each a pizza and they stood in the shade of the shop watching a man toss the dough. It was mesmerizing, and worth the wait. With their food in-hand, they walked to the nearby park.

It was a beautiful sunny day for a picnic. They sat there together on the bench, enjoying food and company and a clear afternoon sky. Thor broke the silence, launching into a story about the time he smuggled a wild goose into the castle as a pet. They laughed, and it was hard not to be too loud and draw attention to themselves. Thor was having such a good time, his smile brighter even than normal, and his shoulders loose. He looked truly happy, all the way to his bones. It was deadly contagious.

Steve told stories in return until the pizza was gone. Then they were up and walking again, off to the ice cream truck parked along the path. That didn’t last long either. They got two scoops each, of four different flavors, and Thor had a lick of each to decide which he liked best. The strawberry cheesecake and chocolate walnut combo won. Steve watched Thor watching a few birds darting between the trees for a few minutes before he remembered he had his phone in his pocket. His perfect memory would always retain this day as crisp as when he’d experienced it, but with a photo he could fit himself in too. Thor tipped his head a little as they paused in the path, and Steve lifted his phone. It had taken him a little while to agree to using it, but he had to admit it was a handy thing to have. Right now, he was appreciating the quality of photo he could take with it.

“What are you doing?” Thor peered at him. There was a little smear of white ice cream in the corner of his mouth, trapped in his beard.

“Taking a photo,” Steve explained casually.  _ You look so happy. How couldn’t I hang onto this? _ He hovered his finger over the button and aimed. He smiled, and Thor did too, making a peace sign with his free hand. It was always adorable when he used Earth colloquialisms. This was no different.

Steve lowered the phone to inspect the picture. The light was pretty good, the colors vibrant. Both of them were grinning a lot wider than he’d first thought. And Steve realized that for the first time in a long time, he felt truly happy. He felt light and bouncy, on top of the world. Young. Like Steve Rogers.

Thor was staring over his shoulder at the picture, a cheery smile on his lips as he licked them, wiping away that little smear in his beard. “Are you going to mail it?”

“Post it?” Steve corrected with a chuckle, sliding his phone into his pocket after one last look. “No. This one’s for me. I don’t have social media anyway. Come on, the day’s not over.”

“Where are we going?” Thor pushed the last of his cone into his mouth and licked a drip off his finger.

“You’ll see,” Steve beamed. There was some day left. When Thor’s fingers wrapped around his, he realized he had reached out. It felt good. He squeezed, and led the way back to his motorcycle. “Hang on,” he ordered, and the demigod’s arms wrapped firmly around his waist. With their bodies snugly compressed, he took off.

There was time to reach the beach by sundown. Once they were outside the city, he could pick up the speed. He could hear the wind whistling past his ears, Thor’s warmth against his back. Up these back roads, the traffic was almost non-existent. It was a good time of day. Steve felt the urge to go just a little faster than the speed limit, so he did. Up on these winding roads looking out over expanses of sparkling water, there was no-one to judge them. There was just Thor, gleefully yelling into the wind as Steve accelerated out of a sharp turn.

Almost there. Steve looked for the landmark, the spot Tony had told him about. It would be hard to get to for a normal person, and even harder to climb up, but for Iron Man, a Super Soldier, or a demigod, it was no problem. The soldier parked his bike on the edge of the road and safely pushed it into some bushes. Thor followed him across the road and over the embankment. They slid down the grass, hopped over a few rocks, and stopped at a small pebbled beach. It was too small to set up any kind of chairs or picnic, but that was alright. Steve hadn’t come here for that. He’d come here for privacy.

“Water’s great,” he urged, throwing off his ball cap, his jacket, his shirt. He kicked off his shoes and backed up toward the water. The sun was starting to set, but the air and water were warm enough. It was beautiful, and quiet. Just the two of them, and the gently lapping waves.

Thor followed. He got undressed, throwing off his jeans and standing in the water in just his underwear. Steve stripped off his jeans too, wading into the water in just his boxers. Then he tipped backwards with a splash.

The water was crystal clear, clear enough to see the bottom. It was only seconds before a huge splash showered him. Thor had lunged in, throwing his bulk forward with his normal enthusiasm. He erupted out of the water like a dolphin, plunging back in and taking off into open water. Steve saw him shoot away under the surface, and jumped right after him. Both of them were impossibly strong, but Thor easily gained the lead. Before they knew it, they were miles away from shore, and Steve had to give up trying to catch the demigod. He slowed to rest his aching muscles, treading water while he caught his breath. He watched Thor’s head bobbing in the waves, surrounded by little splashes as he did the super-powered front-stroke. It was beautiful, the setting sun lighting his golden locks a dark orange-pink.

The demigod slowed, glanced back to notice his follower was no longer on his tails, and turned. Steve watched him dip under the surface, reappearing right beside him in an impossibly short time. His eyelashes were heavy with water, and his eyes danced with light from the setting sun bouncing off the waves. He smiled, and he wasn’t even breathing hard.

“Show-off,” Steve panted.

“Perhaps a little,” Thor admitted, turning onto his back and wrapping an arm around Steve’s chest. He started to swim to shore backward, pulling the Captain along with no hinderance to his gracefulness. The demigod was a fish, a natural-born swimmer. 

Steve went limp, letting himself be tugged through the water. He kicked his legs gently, keeping them out of the way of Thor’s as he was propelled toward land. The clouds were dark magenta, outlined in fire. The last of the sun dipped below the horizon, and a couple of eager stars winked into view.

They were at the beach. Thor’s feet hit pebbles, and he pulled them both standing, shaking water out of his hair like a dog. There was a strange way about him, how he moved, the look in his eyes. Steve wasn’t sure what it was. He wished he did, so he gave himself a bit more time to find out and lay down on the rocks, folding his hands behind his head. The water lapped at his ankles, shimmering with each new star that appeared. Thor was at his side in a flash, laying down as well. He folded his arms over his belly and sighed. It was a pleased sigh, something satisfied. Steve smiled.

“Nice night,” the Captain remarked quietly. They were far enough away from the city that light pollution was diminished. Thanks to the serum, he could see more anyway. He could see so many stars, even a wink of a distant galaxy if he searched hard enough. He could see colors far, far beyond the reaches of the Milky Way. He wondered if  Asgard was visible from here, if he knew where to look. He wondered what other people saw, what they missed. “How much can you see?” He turned his head to look at Thor.

“You want me to count?” the demigod smirked slyly, and it made Steve’s whole body feel warm. He was sure the water was evaporating off him. Thor chuckled and pointed. “That galaxy there, can you see it?”

Steve followed Thor’s finger to a patch of sky, searching among the stars for the shape. Yes, there, he could see the faint glow of a spiral arm. “Yeah,” he smiled. “Yeah, right there.”

“ Asgard is just beyond that,” Thor explained. “Perhaps someday I will take you.”

Now that would be something. Steve smiled at the thought. “ Hell of a day out,” he mused.

“It would be,” Thor agreed. “Just like this was. I had fun.”

“Good,” Steve beamed proudly, looking the demigod in the eyes. “I’m glad. I’m glad you feel better.”

“You fight a good fight,” the prince’s smile was easy, but tense with something aching underneath. He licked his lips. “I’m glad to have friend who would fight that hard for me.”

“You can come by any time, by the way,” Steve offered quickly, spurred by the need to ensure that this didn’t end when Thor got off his motorcycle back at the tower. Even if it was just because neither of them  were good at asking for help, he didn’t want this to end. “You don’t have to be sick or dying.”

Thor chuckled at that, but even in the dark Steve could see he was pleased, maybe even a little relieved. “Thank you. I will. And likewise. You are always welcome.”

They fell silent again, staring back up at the clouds, but their bodies still turned to face each other a little. The space between them was infuriating. Steve  _ knew _ why he’d brought Thor here, away from the rest of the world and their greedy eyes.

Yet it was Thor who made the move, pebbles crunching as he rolled and slid himself over Steve’s drying body. A hand slipped under his neck and cradled it off the ground, bringing their faces closer, closer, until they were absorbed in a kiss.

Steve had never kissed a man before. Then again, he wouldn’t exactly classify Thor as simply a ‘man’. He’d never been held this way either, by anyone. Certainly not as Captain America, with his bulk so perfectly supported. Thor got a knee under himself, fingers in the Captain’s hair, his eyes closed. Steve shut his eyes too, his heart pounding. Shamefully, it had taken him a little by surprise.  _ What was I expecting, really?  _ A tension like that could have only led to this.

He liked it, though he regretted not knowing what to do in return, if he should be giving Thor something. That was alright. The demigod didn’t appear to mind, holding Steve tightly and just giving. Maybe he just needed to give. Steve let him, perfectly happy to be at someone’s mercy. Not just someone’s: Thor’s. Thor knew how to handle him, had the strength to contend with Captain America, and the control to treat him gently, lovingly, with respect for his power yet a desire to serve.

The kiss lasted a long time. Or maybe that was a normal length for a kiss these days. Steve didn’t know, didn’t care. Nobody was here to time them. Thor finally pulled away, peering down at him with a fire in his eyes, licking his lips. “Was that real?”

Steve nodded mutely.  _ Very _ real.

“Was it okay?” 

Steve nodded again. Yes, very much so.

“I’ve had the urge to do that for a long time,” Thor admitted, a tad bashful as he sat back.

“Yeah?” Steve couldn’t believe what had just happened.

“I haven’t felt as much like a person as I did these few days spent with you,” Thor smiled softly, kneeling in the pebbles, still hunched over the Captain.

Neither had he. 

They dried off and dressed, loose as if a great weight had been lifted off their shoulders, a thousand questions answered. Steve stared up the steep embankment, preparing to leap up it, but Thor’s hand on his shoulder stopped him. The demigod pulled him against his chest and bunched his legs, scooping Steve off the ground and reaching the top in two effortless jumps. Then they slid onto the motorcycle, and drove home.

They got drive-through on the way, carrying it up to Thor’s room this time. It was well past midnight, but they sat up in the prince’s kitchen area to eat, content. The demigod hadn’t personalized his suite much. Not in a way to suggest that a space prince lived here, at least. Then again, Steve didn’t know how much time he spent here.

“I’m sure Fury will have more work for us soon,” Steve commented. “You feel up to fighting?”

“Yes,” Thor agreed earnestly.

They’d been fortunate no call-outs had been sent these past few days. Steve would have hated to leave Thor unsupervised and suffering by himself. Yet, when the food was over and conversation died, he found himself standing up to leave. He wasn’t sure why. Thor walked him to the door, took his wrist before he could grab the handle and spinning him round. The kiss given was much softer this time, shorter and shallower. But Steve leaned into it, needing and wanting it.

“See you tomorrow,” the Captain smiled. “Sleep well.”

“I will,” Thor smiled back. “Thank you for today. I hope we can do it again another time?”

“Of course, there are loads more places I could show you,” Steve agreed readily.

“Good.”

And that was the end of that.

\--

Steve got the photo printed off his phone as quickly as possible. The cleaners scrubbed blood from his carpet, and he wandered around looking for his friends. He snapped Tony hunched over his workbench, Bruce leaned back beside him reading an academic paper off his Starkpad. He found Clint and Natasha sparring in the gym. When everyone gathered for dinner, he took a quick picture of the team sprawled on the couches and armchairs encircling the coffee table, Natasha dealing out cards while Clint reached over her for a slice of pizza. Thor was making himself a drink, adding a splash of his Asgardian liquor to his and a second glass for Steve. Tony was already gathering his hand of cards, a pizza slice dangling out his mouth. Bruce slipped through the chaos like a spy through lasers, finding his seat and filling his plate.

That evening, Steve took down his old photos. He pried all of them out of their frames and tucked them in a box, replacing them with the new ones he’d taken. The one of him and Thor in the park went beside his bed.

Steve lay down to sleep, reaching for the lamp. He couldn’t have been out for more than a couple of hours before JARVIS woke him.

“Captain Rogers.” the AI sounded urgent. “Captain, wake up.”

“What?” Steve rubbed his eyes, looking around the room.

“Lord Thor is requesting access to your suite,” JARVIS explained.

“Let him in!” Steve yelped, rolling out of bed and running for the bedroom door. By the time he made the living room, Thor was already there, dressed in a rumpled shirt and sweats, his eyes wide and distant. He was panting like he’d run an Asgardian sprinting race. He staggered right into Steve’s open arms without a word, collapsing into them. Steve didn’t say a word either, leading the way into his bedroom, and under the covers. He pulled Thor with him, wrapped them both in the blankets, and gathered the demigod into his chest. “Shh,” he whispered. “Shh, it’s alright. I’m right here.” The soldier reached up for fever, and was relived to find none.

“Mother is gone,” Thor whimpered into Steve’s chest. “She’s gone.” His eyes weren’t so dry anymore.

“You  wanna talk about it?” Steve asked gently. “The dream?”

Thor paused, then sniffed and shook his head. He nuzzled a little deeper, shoving as far as he could into Steve’s welcoming embrace.

“Okay,” Steve agreed, running his hand up the back of the prince’s head, carding worried fingers through tousled hair. “Okay. Catch your breath. With me. Just like that.”

Thor obeyed, and eventually he did manage to catch his breath. Steve leaned in, though there wasn’t far to go, and pushed a kiss into Thor’s forehead. He made sure they were both tucked in, and made himself the shield against the world. They would get through this, one step at a time. And this was a good start.


End file.
